


Delicate Stems

by russianhousedj



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, ArtMajor!Arin, Ballet, BalletMajor!Dan, Flirting, Happy Ending, M/M, Pining, References to Depression, Slow Burn, Swearing, Swimmer!Ross, silly crush stuff, some slight nsfw but no actual smut, very mild dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 02:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15475239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/russianhousedj/pseuds/russianhousedj
Summary: Dan’s pretty sure he knows what he wants; good grades, a stable relationship, and a job that doesn’t make him miserable. As a ballet dancer, though, he seems to be cursed with starving artist syndrome, and he just can’t really seem to get where he wants to be, despite trying so hard that it exhausts him. After all of his efforts, it’s ironic when he eventually, entirely by accident, runs into the one thing he might’ve been missing the whole time- literally.





	Delicate Stems

**Author's Note:**

> yay, it's here! this was written for the game grumps big bang, a challenge to put out 10k worth of fic in 60 days! it ended up being a little longer than 10k though...
> 
> here's a few things:  
> \- big thanks to nova for helping me with all the ballet stuff! i'm an uneducated stump that doesn't know how to dance, so thank you for the patience with all of my questions  
> \- i first thought of the premise for this fic when i saw [this](http://russianhousedj.tumblr.com/post/154166170048/kklhobbs-limbering-up-before-the-game-grumps) picture. can you blame me? (you can actually see my tags on the post about wanting to write this au. glad it finally happened!)  
> \- the century tree referenced in this fic is a real thing! it's based on [this](https://www.tamu.edu/traditions/aggie-culture/century-tree/) one here at texas a&m  
> \- last but not least, [this](http://dxlltopia.tumblr.com/post/176462410666/my-piece-for-this-years-game-grumps-big-bang-as) beautiful art was made as a companion piece by [sam!!](http://dxlltopia.tumblr.com) go follow them and show them some love!!

Sweat begins to trickle down from where it’s collecting at Dan’s hairline, but he just doesn’t have the time to wipe it away. In his haste to leave, he nearly forgets the CD Melissa had burned for him of practice songs, because she apparently can’t stand Spotify, and a physical disc is just _so_ much more convenient. Miraculously though, he remembers to fling it in his bag at the last minute, managing to avoid at least a single lecture for another day.

Dan even makes sure to put the CD, its purple jewel case and all, in the front pocket of his backpack, rather than in the back compartment- the one with the hole in the bottom that refuses to remain covered with stubbornly cheap duct tape. As a result of that same fucking hole, at least a fifth of the belongings he started the year off with are now scattered across campus, slipping out quietly while he’s is in a hurry to and from his overzealous amount of commitments. Maybe he should just buy a new bag, but he’s just as stubborn as the tape that refuses to stay stuck down, and can’t seem to be bothered. Or at the very least, just can’t manage to find the time.

As he breaks free from the studio and into the slight chill of the still early yet already dark evening, the drop of sweat has rolled almost all the way to his jawline. His movements along the sidewalk are fluid and quick in his haste to make it to work on time. He’s the last dancer to leave tonight, though he should have been out the door earlier, and he knows it. It’s just that it’s so much easier to practice and critique himself when the girls aren’t around, with their natural elegance and perfect figures. Keeping his toe point perfect during a flying pas de chat has been a struggle as of late; in an empty studio with only a few dim lights for company, there’s less pushing frustration over not getting it right, and more of a solid determination to master what he knows he can do with the right attitude. And there are less pushy ballerinas, at that.

As he keeps his head down low and takes the quick and familiar shortcut through campus to the bus stop, the night’s air cools the sweat still yet to be wiped from his hairline. He doesn’t realize it until he’s nearly at the bus, though, that despite the goosebumps rising on his arms, his head is bothering him more than the cold is tonight. Ross had “borrowed” his jacket at the beginning of the week without asking, and since Dan rarely gets much time in the dorms to himself, he hasn’t yet gotten a chance to speak with his roommate to try and get it back. It safe to assume that it’s most likely lost somewhere, left in the pool’s locker room, or forgotten amongst an expansive collection of bland seminar seating.

Regardless of wherever his jacket might be floating on campus, though, it doesn’t matter. Right now, as Dan flashes the bus driver his student ID and boards to a familiarly gloomy seat, he’d much rather have access to some painkillers rather than something as useless as a thrifted, worn-thin jacket.

In an attempt to ease the ache, Dan takes his hair down out of the tight bun he had previously drawn it up in for rehearsal. That’s probably the main source of the discomfort, he reasons with himself, shivering only a little as he tousles the tangles of his curly hair and keeps his eyes trained out the window. It’s either that, he figures inwardly, or the sleep deprivation. A bitter smirk forms on his face at the thought, the notion of acknowledging just how exhausted he’s let himself become somehow making it just that much worse.

Since he can’t be too sure which exactly of his bad habits is the main culprit of his migraine, it may be in his best interest to wane off of each- to tie his hair a little looser, and to take fewer shifts at work to squeeze in naps between classes and ballet. Just to finally give himself a _break_.

On that early Monday evening, however, Dan just can’t manage to make a promise to better himself that he knows he might never, ever keep. He contemplates for a decent second or two if applying Tiger Balm to his temples would help at all, but decidedly rolls his eyes at himself and clutches the frayed strap of his backpack, preparing to pull the stop line and clamber out into a dragging night of commotion that will surely do nothing to ease the pain that incessantly bellows inside his head.

The glow of nearby streetlamps douse him as he steps back out into the summer night, backpack strap clenched in his rigid hand. And the light is a mocking, dull yellow- no warmth, and so far from golden.

\--

“Where’s my jacket, you fucker?” Dan asks a little too loudly for the late hour that he’s finally arriving back to the dorms, but he can’t resist the opportunity to get under Ross’s skin for a change. His purposefully loud footsteps only add more momentary panic to Ross’s suddenly awake yet groggy expression, having been rudely pulled from sleep while slumped at his desk on top of his laptop. He, of course, has no idea what’s going on, and doesn’t bother trying to answer Dan’s loud and accusatory question before he’s quipping back with a mumbled and threatening remark.

“If you don’t stop waking me up like this I’m actually gonna swap roommates. For real this time.” Ross states in a tone that’s lethargic and only slightly hoarse. Dan wouldn’t have taken him seriously anyway, but it’s even harder to pretend to when Ross stares at him with his eyes all squinty and sleepy, resembling a toddler that was woken from a mid-afternoon nap. Not that they’re very far off from that exact scenario, anyway.

Dan shakes his head, smirking at the little victory he can relish in after a night of countless miseries. He admits to himself at least that neither spraying down rental shoes nor sweeping up spilled popcorn count as anything as severe as “miseries,” but he tosses the word around regardless, because, with his lack of sleep, nearly everything feels like three times the burden than it actually should.

Once their door is closed, and after exasperatedly shoving the miniature whiteboard that always falls off of it somewhere that Ross can’t find it to hang it back up again, Dan makes his way towards his bed to wind down. He’s more than willing to just fall into it with his work shirt still on, because it’s been weeks since he washed his sheets anyway. Why bother changing them, either, when he hasn’t gotten the chance to do laundry in a bit, and he’ll be throwing on twice reworn clothing once the morning comes again?

Dan watches Ross conspicuously wipe a bit of drool from the side of his cheek while he kicks his own shoes off, and then watches him sit up a little straighter, and crack his neck. And Dan has hardly even gotten his socks off before he begins tiredly hoping that Ross won’t want anything from him, not tonight.

“Was work alright?” Ross asks conversationally, turning part of the way in his desk chair to make eye contact with his roommate. And it sounds casual, sure, but they’ve been friends long enough for Dan to know when Ross wants something. Usually, it’s all the time.

Alright is a word for it, maybe, but it feels too glorifying to even call it that. It’s just above minimum wage at a bowling alley, the perfect place to degrade a starving artist such as Dan as he’s just working towards one day being good enough for a professional ballet company. How alright can it really be? Dan eventually just shrugs in response, with eyebrows raised and an expression that he hopes conveys all of his thoughts at once, just to save him the effort of speaking.

“Well, you’re not too tired, right?” Ross asks next after accepting Dan’s half-inch of movement as a proper response.

And of course, there it is.

It’s so frustrating to be back in this position time after time, Dan begins to think as he stares back at Ross with this look in his eyes that he knows will never work in intimidating his friend. It’s frustrating to know that, as they hold one another’s gazes for a solid four seconds of indecisiveness, Ross must know exactly what’s going through his head. He knows the real answer to the question he’s posed, knows what Dan _wants_ to say, and ultimately, knows what Dan will end up _actually_ saying. Because Dan is a people pleaser, and a hopeless codependent, so why would this familiar conversation ever go any differently?

The eventual sigh that Dan lets go of is all the answer that Ross needs to know that he’s won- not that he ever really needed to fight in the first place. Dan is tired, just like he always is, but he always thinks: when will he ever get such an easy, stringless hookup again? Most likely in a couple days time, at least, when he and Ross repeat the cycle over, but he doesn’t want to place his bets on someone as spontaneous and unreliable as Ross O’Donovan. And maybe Dan also finishes each escapade with Ross hoping that, after _this_ time, he can find something better in the future. It’d be nice to have something real, something _more,_ with _someone_ more, but Dan has long since settled on the fact that people like himself just may not ever be destined for anything as idyllic as a dedicated lover.

So he settles again now, as he’s learned to do.

Soon enough, Ross is on top of him, lips given over and lean legs straddling Dan’s waist. As Ross aids his roommate in unzipping Dan’s own jacket that hugs his frame, Dan then remembers another reason why he doesn’t tend to ever bother washing those endlessly messy sheets of his.

How could he ever forget?

\--

Worried is all Dan can ever seem to be. Worried, and so fucking late. This might be the third time this week he’s skipped grabbing something to eat in favor of rushing to a seminar, or possibly the fourth- really, Dan doesn’t bother keeping track. When he thinks about the full extent of how poorly he’s taking care of himself, it usually just makes him feel even worse. All that he knows for certain is that his 9 AM in Somatics starts in five minutes, and he’s only just started the journey there that tends to take just under ten. How he’s made it all the way to junior year thus far may as well be one of the world’s greatest mysteries.

As he continues along, those stupid, long legs of his keeping up some sort of half-walk, half-jog movement towards class, Dan ends up eyeing the same tree, what the locals and people on campus call the century tree, that he can’t help but longingly gaze at day after day. Some of the heavy branches droop all the way to the ground, its leaves are green and vibrant and rustling on the outstretching limbs. It’s a pleasant sight, sure, but Dan has always been more interested in the history of it. Or, more specifically, the rumor that, especially beneath the full shade of its leaves during the summer, pairs that meet under the tree’s branches are destined to fall in love.

Lately, Dan’s been wishing more and more that he could at least test the theory out for himself, rather than just hope that it could be true. He remembers mentioning it to Ross once, but he’d only received a laugh in response to what Ross had called, “Stupid superstition.” Honestly, Dan knows how ridiculous it all sounds, but between how grating his daily routine has become and his plateau in his ballet pursuits, Dan could really go for some wishful thinking, just to make the days feel a little less dull.

Today, though, he stares after the sunlit tree for just a moment too long, and when he eventually turns back to watch where he’s going, he finds that he’s headed straight for a light post in the middle of his path. With quick reflexes, he’s able to aim closer to the sidewalk to just narrowly miss it, sparing him the embarrassment of slamming into an inanimate object. He doesn’t, however, avoid an unsuspecting student taping fliers to the thing, and manages to crash directly into him, sending the stranger stumbling and a couple of his posters fluttering to the pavement around them.

So much for getting to class on time.

“Oh my god, I- dude, I’m so sorry.” Dan manages to fumble out, standing there awkwardly in front of this poor guy who’s still trying to regain his balance. Fortunately enough, he doesn’t look too interested in landing a punch on Dan’s jaw as payback, and seems more ticked off than absolutely seething. His fliers, though, do remain scattered on the ground, and Dan makes quick work of scrambling to collect the few that fell.

He extends his arm to hand over the small disheveled stack, and is just about ready to rush off again when this guy with warm eyes and a blonde strip of hair says to Dan, in a rather grumbling, passive-aggressive tone, “Well, the least you could do is take one of my fliers for nearly running me over.”

It’s fair, Dan assumes, so he shrugs and nods in a sort of, “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” kind of way, and takes one of the slightly wrinkled sheets with a polite smile. And from there, he offers a half-wave to the nameless person who still looks incredulous and mostly unimpressed, and makes off towards Somatics again, somehow even more out of breath than before. It feels a little rude to turn around and leave without much interaction, but he at least apologized, so that must count for something.

Dan haphazardly folds the flier and shoves it into his back pocket, and already begins to hope that his professor won’t let Melissa know of his tardiness. The last thing he needs is yet another way to inadvertently prove to her that he is, and always will be, a fuck-up.

But of course, not much ever seems to go quite the way he wants it to.

It wouldn’t be so bad if nearly all the dance professors on campus weren’t friendly with one another, but, and seemingly just to make Dan’s life harder, they are. Melissa does end up hearing about Dan’s minutes-late entrance to his class, and gives him yet another lecture on her four P’s of ballet- poised, precise, pretty, and punctual.

He suffers through it later that evening during rehearsal, trying his hardest not to roll his eyes. It makes him feel just a little better to notice the few looks of sympathy from a couple of the other ballerinas. There are also scoffs and pretentious shakes of the head from the girls that have always doubted him, too, but Dan really tries his best to ignore those and not let them affect his dancing for the rest of practice. Ultimately, he can’t tell which of his first-world problems are ruining his rehearsal, but his pas de chat is still subpar, the notion of a shitty night at the bowling alley due afterward looms over him, and really, Dan thinks that if he weren’t preoccupied with running through the same dance routine over and over, he’d probably be off in the bathroom crying.

Later on, Melissa makes a point to pull him aside and speak to him again, as if he needs any more chastising.

“I’m serious, Dan. No more of this. I hate to always be a downer but you know that a good reputation is a huge part of your career as a dancer.” She tells Dan, arms crossed, as he quietly gathers his things in the mostly empty studio.

What he wants to tell her, or someone, _anyone_ really, is that no matter how hard he tries to keep his life balanced, one aspect or another always ends up falling through and dragging him down. He wants to just be able to tell someone that he feels like giving up most of the time, on school, on his dreams, on anyone other than Ross seeing him as desirable. He wants to have someone _there_ for him, he wants someone to _listen._ But, he knows that now is not the time to get into dramatics or hysterics, and his dance instructor of all people just doesn’t seem as though she’ll be the one person he so desperately seems to need.

Rather than pouring his heart out, Dan instead just shakes his head that is somehow already beginning to ache again, solemnly and simply responding with, “I know, I’m sorry.”

He picks his bag up off the of the floor then, and doesn’t bother saying anything more as he heads towards the door. Usually, a vigorous rehearsal allows him to work out most of his frustrations, sweating out what may be bothering him so that he’s able to leave his troubles at the barre. Tonight, though, Dan feels unreasonably frustrated with himself, and tonight’s practice has only made it worse. It crosses his mind that feeling sorry for himself, and especially over such an insignificant misdemeanor, won’t do him any good. But he doesn’t manage to shake that sick feeling of idiocy for the rest of the night.

\--

The flier doesn’t even cross Dan’s mind until two days later. He probably would’ve forgotten he even had the thing if it weren’t for Ross’s incessant need for sex. That Thursday, in the middle of helping Dan shuffle out of one of the two pairs of jeans that he owns, Ross pulls the crinkled paper out of the back pocket, and doesn’t hesitate to unfold it and start reading it right away.

It’s not as though Dan makes a habit of storing pages of his diary shoved in the pockets of his jeans, but if it _had_ been something important or worth keeping a secret, Ross would have already read the whole thing by now. Not even just that- Ross probably would have promptly bolted to run his mouth about Dan’s business to people that did not deserve to know. Ross, of course, is not really known for having boundaries or a limited curiosity in any sense, so Dan isn’t really sure why he continues to be surprised by the things his roommate does.

“Getting naked for strangers, huh? The things you’ll do for money.” Ross says with a smirk and a raise of an eyebrow as his blue eyes quickly dart over the text. And while Dan knows that this must be one of Ross’s stupid jokes, his face still flushes hot red, as though he’s been caught red-handed, accused of something he didn’t even commit. He never got around to reading the flier himself, but he desperately hopes that it isn’t, in fact, an ad searching for an amateur porn star or something equally as embarrassing, or else Ross will never let him hear the end of it.

In a slight fit of sudden panic, Dan grabs the paper free from Ross’s hands before he can make any more jokes at his expense, yet tries remaining somewhat calm as he asks, “What? No? What the hell are you talking about?”

As Ross continues to stare at him smugly, like he’s acquired some awful blackmail material and just feels greedy with it, Dan finally opts into just reading the thing for himself. What he gathers with a quick once-over is that, apparently, some guy named Arin is looking for a someone to pose for him while he takes photos for some art class, and is willing to pay forty bucks to whoever offers to help. Fortunately, it doesn’t _at all_ mention a single thing about the volunteer being naked, or anything even close to it, which Dan is thankful for.

If Dan weren’t still blushing at the crude allegations Ross had made against him, the possibility of participating might seem more appealing, and he could make a mental note to look into it later. But, with Ross still half-naked and snickering on top of him, the idea of calling up this Arin character flees his mind as soon as he takes his eyes away from the paper.

“Are you quitting ballet to become a nude model? Because I mean, I know we fuck a lot, but even _I_ don’t know if you’ve got _that_ kind of physique, you know?”

To that, Dan can’t manage an answer that isn’t either a curse word or an insult. The best he can manage is an incredulous stare at how rude Ross manages to be sometimes, seemingly without even realizing it.

In response to Dan’s agitated gaze, Ross goes on to say, “No offense,” as if those are the magic words that’ll gently sew his ego back together like some ribbons back onto a pair of pointe shoes. He could try to quip back at him or bother to explain that, hey, saying things like that is a shitty thing to do, Ross. Instead, though, Dan takes the mostly painless route and just hooks a hand around the back of Ross’s neck to tug him back down so that their lips meet again forcefully, shutting his roommate up the best way he knows how.

So he forgets about the ad for a second time. Days go by while he focuses on more important things, like writing that essay for his History of Dance class the night before it’s due between rushes of bowlers at work. Dan also finally gives Melissa’s practice CD a listen, after he realizes it hadn’t left his bag in almost a week. They’re all steps he takes towards just getting through at least another week, because going week by week helps keep him sane. It’s the smaller goals that at least have the illusion of being more attainable than Dan’s long-term aspirations. If there’s anything that Dan just doesn’t have the time or the self-image to dwell on, it’d definitely be that time a few nights ago when Ross thought he might want to be a nude model, and when Ross then immediately doubted that Dan had any appeal to him to be able to do it.

The thought does eventually cross his mind, though, another couple days later while Dan’s hiding in the back at work. He doesn’t know the first thing about mechanics, but he likes to tell his boss that he’s going to go tune up the bowling machines, and takes to climbing up on top of them to get a break from the busy nights. Thankfully, no one has bothered to come to look for him thus far, let alone caught him slacking, so he figures he may as well keep it up while he still can. Amongst the clatter of pins and bowling machinery one night, he stretches his aching neck, and for some reason, a thought springs to mind, his brain reminding him of the guy with the flier and the soft brown hair just above his shoulders.

He could really use the money, he firstly reasons with himself, and that’s the driving force behind his dwelling on the matter at all. But modeling? Dan doesn’t know the first thing about it, and as much as it really burns his already dwindling ego to the core to admit it, Ross is _right_ . Nude or not, Dan isn’t really the model type, and he never has been. He’s hardly even the _ballet_ type, body-wise at least, but he’s in too deep now to do anything about it.

When he was younger, a naive little boy whose heart wasn’t yet broken by reality, a friend of his mother’s noticed how slender and petite he was for his age, and he’s been in love with the art of ballet ever since she took him under her wing at her studio. The only issue is that now, he’s not so much admirably slender as he is just lanky and angular. He wishes he knew back then in the beginning what he knows now. He wishes that, as he was growing attached to the rush of a successful pirouette, and feeling pride in becoming the star dancer of his company, he knew that he'd eventually just grow to be scrawny, not lean and graceful.

Years later, after hours of recitals and sweat and sprained ankles and frustrated tears, it’s not an option to quit anymore. It probably doesn’t help that he’s almost constantly surrounded by ballerinas, either, with their gorgeous figures and graceful movements that he could never quite live up to.

Dan stops his train of thought there, because he’s thought this over too many times to count, now, and he can already feel his eyes stupidly welling with pathetic tears that won’t do him any good. He could absolutely use the money that this guy Arin is willing to offer him, sure, but one of Dan’s talents is fucking things up, both for himself and nearly everyone he comes in contact with. He just can’t afford another blow to his self-image when he’s already so low, and doesn’t want to bother risking it. With that, he hops down off of the machine and heads back out through the employees only door, then, deciding to keep his mind occupied with the only mildly frantic bustle of work.

But the thought of the modeling gig doesn’t leave his thoughts all through the rest of his shift, and he fights with himself inwardly during the night, endlessly teetering back and forth between his options. Maybe he could just call and ask about the details before he commits to anything, that wouldn’t hurt, right? But fuck, no one _calls_ anymore, he’d probably just come across as a creep. Texting seems a little too informal though, and texting a stranger is a bit like wording an email to a colleague that you don’t really like or want to know. It’s too awkward and official, and they’re _college_ kids, for fuck’s sake. He can’t go about it like a normal job offer, it’s just not that kind of setting. Worst of all, the awful anticipation of waiting for a response back might just end up killing him before he ever gets to take on the job.

Dan clocks out hours after going back and forth between considering getting in contact with this guy and just forgetting about the whole thing altogether. He’s more than ready to, if anything, just alleviate some stress from his overworked brain for at least the night, head back to the dorms for a semi-restless night of sleep, and possibly think it all back over in the morning.

But then Dan remembers that earlier, Ross had asked, or rather more accurately, _demanded_ that Dan not come back to their room until after 2:30 AM. Dan didn’t really ask questions, because Ross wasn’t in the mood for answering, but he’d give a strong guess that his roommate was going to be busy fucking another member of the swim team. He’s marked half of them off of his list so far, and Ross is anything but a quitter.

It doesn’t hurt, necessarily, the knowledge that Dan isn’t Ross’s one and only friend with benefits, but it bugs him in some way that he can’t place. Outside of the now locked doors of the bowling alley, though, with his co-workers waving half-hearted goodbyes as they head off in different directions, the realization alone that he can’t get some sleep for at least another hour is way more of a let-down than not being Ross’s favorite fuck-buddy.

He sighs after the few cars that roll out of the parking lot and has a short battle with himself between wanting to cry just a little at his luck and knowing that Ross of all people is not worth his frustrated tears. His neck still hurts as he huffs and begins to walk towards the streets downtown, and he lies to himself as he thinks that if Ross were asking for sex tonight, and wasn’t with some athletic, lean-bodied hunk instead, that he would have finally stood his ground and told Ross that he wasn’t in the mood.

As if he’s not overly-courteous and desperate to please anyone that asks something of him, just in an attempt to remain liked. Really, what fantasy world does Dan think he lives in, pretending he has the nerve to stand up for himself?

Dan wanders downtown instead of toward the bus stop, in search of something open in the small hours of the morning. It’s times like these that he wishes he would bother saving up for a car, just to have someplace to wait out Ross’s rendezvous and take a nap in the meantime. On a Saturday evening, though, there seems to be nothing open for Dan and his hopelessness. Fuck living in a small town. He’s nearly ready to just head home to barge into the dorms anyway, dealing with Ross’s bitching for the next week or so, when a neon open sign catches his eye from down the street, and his hope is restored for at least another night.

Upon further inspection after heading down the sidewalk, he finds that it’s an Insomnia Cookies, and doesn’t think a late-night cookie has ever sounded so good in his life. There were some passing rumors he heard of the place opening a while back, but Dan never bothered to look into it, being far too busy catching up on sleep. Melissa likes to nag her dancers, and especially Dan, to keep up a better diet and stay away from the junk food- Skittles included. He’s worn out and frustrated, though, and can’t be bothered to think a second more about his ballet instructor when the glow of the sign flashes invitingly at him from just inside the building. He opens the glass door to gladly and groggily venture inside.

The place is too fluorescently lit for the evening’s late hour, and for Dan’s impending headache that he can already feel brewing, but he heads to the counter anyway, way too keen on cookies to turn back now. He orders a couple of white chocolate macadamias that would have Melissa fuming, but he doesn’t care, not right now. Dan decides to not think about her, or his schoolwork, or Ross, or anything other than just giving himself a sufficient and much-needed break from everything. It’s his cool-down time. He may not think too highly of himself, but Dan at least believes that he deserves this small, quiet moment. It’s all temporary.

After turning from the counter to find some seating, he heads for a table in the corner, close to the open sign and illuminated by a periodic glow of red and blue. He settles in, and feels more at ease and able to relax in this cookie shop at 1:30 in the morning than he has been able to feel in his own dorm room in weeks. It’s comforting and easy, and so he takes his time with the first cookie, eating mostly with his eyes closed and listening to the various machines of the place humming. But it’s as he’s ready to dig into the second confection that he takes a look around the room, and realizes that he is not the only tired college student around tonight.

At a small counter with a couple of barstools not too far away, Dan spots a familiar looking figure, and after a few moments of dumbfounded staring, he realizes where he knows this stranger from. After a night of wondering whether to contact him or not, the student he’d practically mowed down the other day is now the only other customer in this store with him, and Dan doesn’t think he can think of an excuse not to speak to him now that they’re finally face-to-face.

He sits for nearly fifteen minutes just staring at the back of this guy’s head, mostly trying to remember what the hell his name is, and next trying to work up the nerve to go over and ask about the ad. It’s so stupid that something as miniscule as this is giving him such a hard time, he knows, but Dan is a creature of habit, and interacting with strangers like this is definitely not part of any of his habits or routines. He has Ross, and Melissa, and the ballerinas that he mostly only speaks with to discuss dancing and their routines. Talking to a new face makes Dan’s stomach flip, and he hates it.

Maybe it’s less the idea of the initial conversation that has him feeling anxious, and more so the commitment that he figures he’ll be roped into afterward. If he decides he no longer wants to awkwardly try to pose in front of a camera for a stranger anymore, what’s he meant to do? If he bails, then he makes himself into a total asshole, but if he goes through with it, then he might just end up looking like even _more_ of an idiot. Sure, he’s pretended to know what he’s doing while hooking up with a couple random guys before, but this is different. If he wants to avoid mortifying himself, isn’t the best option just to stay at his own table with his own cookies and keep to himself tonight? Sure, probably.

But Dan could really use forty extra bucks.

“Hi, Arin, right?” Dan says to the guy he _really_ hopes is named Arin, who’s hunched over his phone with his narrowed eyes trained on the screen. Resisting the urge to be nosy and peek over his shoulder to see what the guy’s so intent on staring at, Dan instead waits patiently for a response instead.

And he waits, and waits, until he realizes that if he favors being polite over actually communicating, then he may actually just end up standing there until the shop closes up. Boldly, Dan taps on his shoulder, and when he sees Arin pull his earbuds out of his ears, he realizes that he doesn’t even need to agree to the modeling gig to make himself into an idiot. It apparently just comes naturally to him already.

“You’re Arin, right?” Dan says, lifting his hand in some awkward half-wave as he stares down at the boy in front of him. He doesn’t know why he’s having such trouble with fucking common human interaction, but today just doesn’t seem to be his day, and he can’t seem to get it right.

Fortunately, Arin nods his head, and next raises his eyebrows in a way that seems to be asking, “And who the hell are you?”

“Sorry to bother you, I just- we met the other day? And you were putting up fliers and I just-,”

“Oh wait, yeah, I remember you. You’re the guy who almost knocked me over.”

Dan’s not sure whether to laugh, apologize, laugh through an apology, or just leave now while he’s still ahead. He goes for the third option without really dwelling on it, his brain coaxing some uncomfortable breathy sort of chuckle out of him as he tries explaining himself.

“That was me, yeah, I’m sorry. I promise I don’t, like, normally do that.” He’s not sure why when, at work, as he keeps on a synthetic smile as he talks cheerily to customer after customer, it’s suddenly so weirdly difficult to do basically the same thing now. Maybe it’s mostly because Dan seems to have already made a bad impression on this person, and if he wants this Arin character’s money, he’s going to want to _not_ have him totally hate everything about Dan.

If there’s any higher power that enjoys watching Dan stumble over himself so pitifully, it finally relents and throws some spare good luck in his direction.

“That’s okay,” Arin says gently, his tone warm as the beginnings of a smile tug at his mouth, “You don’t seem like a _total_ asshole. I mean, at least you apologized.” He seems to look Dan up and down, possible inwardly questioning if Dan really _is_ an asshole or not based solely on the way he presents himself. Dan is grateful then, for not the first time in his life, that he ditched the leather jacket phase a couple years ago. Still, he can’t help but wonder what Arin could possibly be thinking. As if now is the time to have a crisis over worrying about what other people think of him.

There’s this awful period, then, of Arin still looking at Dan but now looking more expectant and a little confused more than anything. Dan rolls his eyes a little at himself and is already feeling stupid again before Arin gets the chance to ask, “So, what did you want, again?”

“Y-Your fliers, uh, you had me take one, and I almost lost it, but I actually got around to reading it. And I’m glad I saw you here because I’m, like, interested, I guess? I don’t know, is that how you propose a business deal? Does this count as a business deal?”

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep that’s making Dan flustered, or the smell of the shop’s cookies. Or maybe it’s that, as he’s just now realizing, this is one of his first real interactions with another student, another _person_ other than Ross and the ballet company in a long while. Probably _too_ long of a while. Still, though, it probably doesn’t help that both the smell of the cookies and the white chocolate macadamia sitting nice and content in his tummy are definitely slowly lulling him to sleep where he stands. He blinks a few quick times in a row, as if that’ll somehow suddenly trick his brain into thinking he’s gotten much more shut-eye than he has in the last couple of weeks. Couple of months. Years?

“Uh, yeah, you could call it a business deal if you want, but you don’t have to. Probably don’t, I think it makes it weird.” Arin tells him decisively, as though he’s just come to that conclusion himself right then. And Dan’s glad that he wasn’t the only one who had to ponder it first.

“So, have you modeled before?”

With a shake of his head, Dan admits that no, he hasn’t, and he’s tempted to say that, yeah, he knows he doesn’t look like a model either, please don’t bring it up. He manages to void the last part, but still thinks of Ross back in the dorms - being an asshole, kicking Dan out of his own room, losing his jacket all the time - and rolls his eyes a little at the thought of him.

“That’s fine, I just figured I’d ask. To be honest, you’re only the second person who’s asked me about it since I made the fliers, but if you’re really down to do it I think I’d definitely pick you over the other girl. She was nice and all but asked if she could pose with her pet chinchillas and roll around in dust with them? It sounds kind of dope, don’t get me wrong, but I’m mostly just going for some simplistic shots for references, and pets aren’t allowed in my apartment complex.”

Dan is surprised that anyone would prefer him under any circumstances, but tries to keep his head level when his only competition was a chinchilla enthusiast.

“That’s… kind of hilarious, but I’m glad I can help if you aren’t going to go with her. My schedule is only a _little_ all over the place with ballet and class and work, but I’m sure that-,”

“Whoa, you’re a ballerina? Now I’m sure I’ve made the right choice.” Arin actually grins now, and Dan basks in the most validation he’s received from anyone in a long while. Maybe he’s not giving Melissa or Ross enough credit, although the bar is set pretty low.

Dan laughs a little, and finally begins to feel a little less inexplicably nervous. “Ballerinas are the girls, actually. Technically I’m a ballerino, but I think that sounds kind of stupid, so I just stick to saying ballet dancer.”

“Oh okay, got it,” Arin nods, then glances at his phone to check the time. He looks a little surprised to see how late it is, and Dan wonders what it’s like to be responsible and decent at time management. Even if Insomnia eventually kicked him out when they closed, he’d only go back to the dorms to probably end up fooling around with Ross a little before doing anything productive like his homework or sleeping.

“Well I’ve been here for almost two hours now, so I should get going.” Arin says, picking up his messenger bag off the floor before standing to his feet. “Just text me when you’re free next and I’ll find a workaround, it’s the number on the ad. I’ll see you around.” Arin says, popping a final bite of a cookie in his mouth before raising his hand as a goodbye and heading out the door.

Then, Dan is alone again, and he’s surprised to think that something he couldn’t bring himself to do for days actually went so well. He’s under the impression that he’s edging toward feeling comfortable around Arin, which isn’t something he can say for most strangers. Perhaps it’s a little hasty to assume he’s _comfortable_ when he still has yet to stand in front of Arin’s daunting camera as he pretends to know how to model. At least for the time being, though, he can say that they’re friendly, and that’s off to a good start in his books. Dan makes a mental note to check with Melissa about skipping out on a practice, even though he’ll undoubtedly forget to ask and get chewed out for it when the day comes.

He sits back down at his table then and works on eating his last cookie as slow as possible, trying desperately to drag out the hour he has to wait until Ross will let him back in the dorm without a bitch fit.

\--

In a world where Dan is not a constant a constant ball of stress and worry, he’d have no trouble with any of this. He would show up, do the job, take his money, and get on with his life. The reality, though, is that Dan doesn’t know _how_ to stop worrying, even when it’s something that doesn’t have anything to do with ballet or school or his shitty job or his desperateness for someone to love him. It’s two in the afternoon, Dan doesn’t have any classes for the rest of the day, and he’s stood in another student’s apartment that he barely knows by name. Oh, and he’s stood in front of a camera, too, trying helplessly to pretend to have any semblance of knowing what he’s doing. That’s probably the worst of it.

The living room is small, with a couple couches that have been haphazardly angled out of the way so that Dan is situated in front of a blank off-white wall. Arin let him know that his roommates were out of the house, which Dan was slightly thankful for- at least no one else but Arin gets to watch him fail. Somehow, though, being isolated with just this near stranger eventually seems even worse than if they weren’t alone, if only because it’s so obvious that Arin is growing increasingly, yet silently, frustrated with Dan’s incompetence by the second.

It’s after a few dragging, _impossible_ minutes of Dan “posing,” which is mostly just him being too aware of his hands and fidgeting as an attempt at slightly changing positions, that Arin finally says something about it.

“Okay, what’s the problem?” He asks in a tone that’s so clearly irked that Dan wants to just step towards the door wordlessly to show himself out. Because he doesn’t really have much of an explanation, does he?

“There isn’t one, I’m sorry.” Dan tries to play it off, rolls his shoulders as if to imply that he wasn’t warmed up yet. He puts his hands on his hips then, and smiles this strange half-smile at the camera as if Arin’s taking his yearbook photo for middle school. And, believably enough, Arin doesn’t seem to love it.

Dan sees him roll his eyes a little, but he thankfully doesn’t start spouting insults about his body like Ross seems to like to do, which he’s thankful for if anything. Arin does, however, roll out some other critiques instead.

“You’re so rigid.” Arin says, straight and to the point. Dan wouldn’t mind him saying so as much if there were anything he could do to fix it. The voice he’s using now doesn’t sound nearly as nice as it did at 2 AM surrounded by the warm scent of cookies, and Dan’s mostly just wondering how and why he ever let himself _actually_ go through with this.

When Arin first opened the door to the apartment, his grin was friendly enough that it made Dan feel like this could be easy, and he knows that it _should_ be easy. These simple shots are references for artwork that probably will be of a person that won’t look anything like Dan. This isn’t Jack’s sketch of Rose in the Titanic, and Dan isn’t going to have to sit for stiff for hours on end like 18th-century royalty. It should be _easy_ to just stop looking so awkward for an hour or so, but he just can’t seem to get it. He’s too unsure, his shoulders are too bony, and he’s never really been the type to exceed at any one thing, let alone something that’s out of his comfort level to begin with.

Dan’s response is anything but collected; it’s more of a bewildered and wobbly tone, something just as rigid as the rest of him.

“I’m sorry, I-,” He starts, a dry and humorless laugh bubbling from chest beyond his control, as if his brain and his body are trying to work together to make this situation somehow less awkward. “I have no idea why I thought this would be a good idea. I’m not a model, and I’m barely even a ballet dancer. Keep your money, I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

He shakes his head at himself, curls falling in his face, and he turns toward the door that he came in through, hopeful that eventually, one day, he’ll be able to think of this memory without cringing at himself.

“Dude, wait.” Arin says before he can even reach for the doorknob, and Dan furrows his brows as he looks back over at Arin, unable to wrap his head around why Arin is even bothering to work with him.

“Why do you think you’re bad at this?”

Dan looks around the room noncommittally, as if it should be obvious why he thinks that. “I’m so out of my element here. I don’t really know you, and I don’t know how to pose, or… be _beautiful_ or whatever.”

There’s silence that follows, and Dan is so close to the front door, still. The hum of the AC whirs loud enough that it’s all Dan can focus on, all that he’ll really _let_ himself focus on. Does everyone else make their own lives this difficult, or is it really just him? His mouth seems to move on its own, as if trying to appeal for pity, or to explain himself further, although he feels like he’s just adding fuel to the stupid, pointless fire.

“You need someone else. Go with the chinchilla girl or really anybody else, because I’m not a model. I don’t look like one, and I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Dan finally lets his eyes land back on Arin when he sighs, sets down the camera he’d been holding on the coffee table nearby, and breaks his own silence.

“Look, you’re already good looking enough, you just need more confidence.” And that isn’t really what Dan expected him to say, so he can’t think of anything relatively smart to say in turn. “You have sweet eyes and an amazing smile and a nice body. So just… I don’t know, channel whatever you do when you dance. Do what feels natural and stop thinking that you can’t do it, because you’re not stupid for being nervous. Promise.”

It’s pretty clear when he ponders it that most of this negative thinking has stemmed from Ross’s stupid comments earlier in the week. If he hadn’t taken a jab at Dan’s appearance when he’s already so self-conscious, maybe this wouldn’t have initially gone so terribly. Right then, though, even though he doesn’t need to, even though he doesn’t really know Dan, and even though he _could_ still call the chinchilla girl, Arin eases away most of the thoughts of self-doubt and Ross’s remarks in an instant. It still doesn’t come naturally to him, but Dan does walk back over to the same off-white wall and decides to try again, because at this point he feels like he owes it to Arin for being so kind about it all.

This time, when Dan looks at the camera, the middle school yearbook photo feeling is gone, and he thinks he’s starting to get the hang of it. His expressions are neutral and relaxed, and though his hands are still pretty clammy he doesn’t think he’s as rigid as before. Arin asks him to move in certain ways between the flashes of the camera, and Dan complies. It even starts to feel a little _fun_ after a while- who knew that the feeling of someone finally being patient with him could be so gratifying?

About thirty minutes later, Arin has not only gotten what he needed, but has even managed to make Dan fawn over all of the shots.

“Wow, you really made me look good.” Dan finds himself unable to hold the comment in, so unused to seeing himself in these angles and with this lighting, and with that smolder that he didn’t even really feel himself making.

“It wasn’t even me, you already looked good.” Arin says, and Dan is just now realizing how close he’s crowded in to stare at the camera’s tiny screen. He’s tempted to look up at Arin and smile, and should say _thanks_ at least, but his breath feels thickly caught in his throat and he can’t get past the feeling enough to say much of anything. There’s also a slight warmth to his cheeks at the compliment, and Dan knows that the last thing he needs is to embarrass himself any further today.

When Arin shuts off the camera and the screen goes black, Dan backs away. He completely forgot about the money aspect of it all as he looks towards the door, only remembering when Arin holds out two twenties and says, “Well, thanks. Here you go.”

It’s not like Dan to be so bold, or to make plans of any kind with _anyone_ he knows. Ross tends to hang around the rest of the swim team, and all of Dan’s coworkers are polite on the clock, but they seem all mutually yet silently agree that it’s only a work relationship. The words are so present in the forefront of his mind, though, that he can’t help but let them go.

With a shake of his head, Dan declines the money as he says, “No, that’s okay. I, uh… If you want instead, you could just buy me cookies at Insomnia tomorrow night? Same time as before?”

He doesn’t know why he was expecting Arin to reject the offer, but he’s beyond delighted to hear the words, “Sure, I can do that,” come from a grinning Arin. So much for Melissa’s ballerina diet.

\--

It’s sad, really, how it’s _strange_ to Dan that he feels this urge to smile all the time. It’s strange that Dan, of all people, looks down at his phone, cracks a smile, and doesn’t feel completely miserable for a whole shift at work for once because of it. He _knows_ it’s sad, too, knows that something like this shouldn’t feel out of place or unusual for anyone. Dan is so focused on the smile itself and the texts from Arin, though, that the strangeness is welcomed and he barely even remembers how long it’s been since he’s had a proper friend. He doesn’t care.

It’s been a couple days since he grabbed late-night cookies again with Arin, and since then, Dan hasn’t gotten much work done at the bowling alley. He finds himself wandering off to “check on the machines” and “go to the bathroom” just to respond to messages on his phone- and he could not be less bothered by it. It’s hard to pinpoint what it is about Arin that makes Dan unable to put his phone down, but he figures that it doesn’t _really_ matter what it is. It doesn’t matter if it’s Arin’s stories, or his stupid jokes, or the way he seems to actually be paying attention to Dan when he speaks. All that matters is that, while Dan still has tests to study for and ballet rehearsal and a shitty boss, he finds that the stress of it all is more alleviated than it’s been in a while. He knows that it’d be weird to thank Arin for something that he isn’t really meaning to do, but Dan has still considered it a few times.

Dan isn’t often one to ask favors of people, which his mom would tell him, in lighter terms, is one of his character flaws. Tonight, though, Dan’s staring at an empty bowling alley that still needs to be shut down for closing, yet all of his co-workers have already left the building. It’s not as though it hasn’t happened before, but it doesn’t make it any less of a hassle to deal with. The thought that for some reason makes him roll his eyes just a little less as he mops the floors is the idea of possibly hanging out with Arin once he’s done. It’s stupid, and it may be rude to ask when it’s so late, but once it’s on his mind and he’s left to mindlessly clean, it’s all Dan can seem to think about. They’ve been texting each other intermittently all night anyway, will it really do any harm?

It’s the fastest Dan’s probably ever closed, especially without anyone’s help. Once he’s out the doors and locked them behind him, Dan could take the bus back to the dorms like he usually does. He could even walk if he wanted to, like he does when he just wants to clear his head and cool down after work. Tonight, though, Dan has a third option, and he barely lets himself think it through, barely wonders if it’s even appropriate to do or not, before his thumbs are typing away a message to Arin, asking if he’d be down to drive Dan back to the dorms.

He heads toward the bus stop as he waits for a response, just in case. As much as he’s enjoying this newfound friendship and basking in how easily he and Arin get along, Dan knows that he can’t get carried away. Just because Dan’s in desperate need of some proper human interaction doesn’t mean it’s the same for Arin, and it especially doesn’t mean that Arin is as into it all as Dan. It’s a bit of a bleak thought, but Dan knows better than to get his hopes too high, knows better than to _expect_ things from other people.

In just a few minutes, Dan receives a reply.

off of moss st right? i’ll be there in a few :)

If Arin’s not as weirdly invested in this sudden friendship as Dan, then he’s making it really hard for Dan not to hope so.

When Dan slides into the passenger seat of Arin’s car, the first thing he notes is that it smells sweet, something like strawberry candy. There’s no air freshener hanging on the mirror, though, and Dan doesn’t know if it would be considered rude to ask about it. So, he doesn’t. What he next notices is the soft smile Arin directs at him as he moves to buckle his seatbelt, and the thought quickly crosses his mind that this is the most comfortable he’s ever been in someone else’s car. It’s weird, but it’s true- he usually feels so stiff and like he shouldn’t move in such close quarters with someone else like this, and it’s almost always unavoidable. Right now, though, there’s music playing as a quiet drone of background noise, and Arin’s smiling, and the car smells like _candy_ for fuck’s sake. It seems impossible that Dan _wouldn’t_ feel strangely comfortable, even when he has this distant feeling that’s lurking and urging him to feel guilty for Arin’s compliance to pick him up at all.

Dan notes that this feeling of content probably also has to do with the whole “I finally have another friend” thing, so he tries not to dwell on it, and forces his overworked brain to stop making it seem like such a big deal.

“Thanks for this.” Dan says gratefully, leaning back so that his head touches the headrest and his back settles into the seat. His whole body seems to slowly begin to relax on its own, no longer so tense from the night at work. It’s an admittedly nice change to be able to spend time with someone that doesn’t stress him out as much as Ross or his job can.

It’s a real struggle sometimes, living with Ross- especially when Dan is always worried he’ll want to hook up as soon as Dan walks in the door. Maybe that should be a detail that he takes a little more seriously; the fact that Dan is worried about being around Ross before he even has his shoes off most nights. It’s never crossed as mind as a problem that he should _act_ on, though, just another item on the decently long list of things that Dan puts up with because he feels like he’d be weak if he admitted that they bothered him.

With a couple blinks, Dan’s out of the tangent of thoughts, and looks over to Arin to realize that he’s staring expectantly, and it dawns on Dan that he must’ve said something. Embarrassingly enough, Dan admits that he definitely didn’t hear him.

“Sorry, what did you-,”

“I said it’s no problem.” Arin laughs a little as he says it, then puts the car into drive. “You must’ve had a bad night, you really zoned out there for a second.”

“It wasn’t the worst night ever, could have been a lot worse. It helps that I don’t have to take the bus back, though. Sometimes it’s really creepy when it’s just you and the bus driver, you know?”

“Well, I’m glad I could help you not potentially get kidnapped by the bus driver, then.” Arin jokes, and Dan breathes out a mix of a sigh and laugh, because it sounds like a joke he’d make himself. And it’s so relieving to feel like Dan doesn’t have to tailor his words or his interests or _anything_ to anyone else right now. Despite the short amount of time they’ve spent together, Dan can tell how well he gets along with Arin, and it’s nice to know that just hanging out with someone won’t have to feel like another unending performance.

The trip to the dorms is relatively short, especially with the light conversation they keep up, and it makes Dan feel a little silly in asking for a ride at all. He’s already uselessly apologized once, though, and thanked Arin another two times, so he figures it best to shut up and not make himself look any more stupid than he already has.

“Alright, building C, that’s me,” Dan announces once they’re nearby, and the car comes to a stop by the curb. He wonders if it would be overkill to thank Arin just one more time before he leaves, but his mouth moves of his own accord so that the words leave him before he can think it through.

“For real, thank you for this, man.”

Arin rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling softly, so Dan isn’t struck with the feat that he’s done something horribly wrong. “ _Dude_ , I’m serious, it’s no big deal. The drive is short and I was just sitting around at home doing nothing anyway. Friends help each other out, you know?”

Dan nods, heart happy at the mention of the word “friends,” and he picks his bag up from the floor of the car by his feet. After stepping out, he waves at Arin from the sidewalk before shutting the door, and forces himself not to stand around to watch the car drive away. While walking the familiar path to the dorms, Dan realizes that this is the first time in a while that he hasn’t been absolutely dreading something as small as unlocking his door. When his routine has been so monotonous for so long, it’s something as small as a few jokes and a car ride that can do wonders for his mood.

“So who’d you fuck?” Ross asks, barely half a minute since Dan closed the door to their room behind him. Dan narrows his eyes and looks at his roommate in a way that says, “What the fuck are you talking about?” as he throws his backpack near his bed and begins to try to unwind.

Ross pushes away from his desk and rolls a little ways over to Dan in his chair, smirking with this look that he seems to expect Dan to know how to decipher. Dan, of course, still doesn’t know what the hell he could possibly be insinuating, or more so _why_ he’d ask something like that before Dan has been in the room for even five minutes.

“You look all happy and stuff. Did you just come back from a date?”

“No, I worked tonight. Just like I do almost every night.”

“Well, I may not know your work schedule, but I _do_ know that you look like you hate the world a little bit less today. So, why is that?”

Dan doesn’t really have the patience for Ross and his stupid interrogation tonight, but just as he’s about to let him know, the screen of his phone lights up and brightens the dark interior of the room. Ross tends to work with hardly any light, which Dan stopped reminding him wasn’t good for his eyes very early on in their friendship. He’s not always one to listen to what other people say.

Although Dan knows there are about three people who would be texting him, and he has a decent idea of who it might be, he still looks down at his phone with an eyebrow raised curiously. Unsurprisingly, it’s Arin, as Ross only texts him for favors or when they’re at least not in the same room together, and Melissa prefers to call Dan about rehearsal changes.

hey i think you left a cd in my car. i guess it fell out of your bag? 

Of fucking course. He blames this on Melissa and her pointless need for CDs. If he didn’t have to bring the stupid thing all the way to the library just to listen to it, he wouldn’t have lost it. He knows at least some of this is his fault too, though. Dan isn’t ever much one for to-do lists, but maybe making one for the sole purpose of adding “buy a new, less-ripped backpack” to it will help him stop procrastinating. Whoever is to blame, it doesn’t stop Dan from feeling embarrassed for misplacing it, for some reason that he also can’t quite place.

“Is that them? Who are you texting?” Ross is quick to ask, too jumpy for his own good. Dan doesn’t owe him an answer, though. At least, not one that isn’t entirely too vague.

“It’s my partner for a project I’m working on. Don’t worry about it.” Dan says dismissively to avoid more questions, and works on a reply to Arin.

yeah my backpack is ripped... oops. 

“Well fine, I guess. I don’t care who it is, as long as they’re making you less bitchy all the time.”

Dan looks up at the ceiling at Ross’s words with a scowl, as if searching for an answer for why he is the way he is. Somehow, he doesn’t find any rhyme or reason, but his phone does buzz in his hands just a few seconds later. Ross says something else, but Dan easily drowns it out as he sits on his bed and works on getting his stupid thumbs to type the right letters.

i can just bring it to you whenever you work next if you want? i can drive you home again 

wow yes that’d be perfect actually. thanks arin 

Although he doesn’t make the conscious decision to pay attention to Ross and whatever he’s saying, it seems that Ross doesn’t even want to give him the choice. His phone is pulled from his hands in a quick and fluid movement just after he presses send, and when he looks up, Ross’s face is very close to his. There’s this smirk on it too, and Dan has known him long enough to know exactly what it means. If anything, he’d be able to decipher it as an expression that means Ross wants something, and he’s willing to be mischievous to get it.

As Ross so helpfully pointed out earlier, though, Dan miraculously doesn’t feel quite as drained tonight as he might usually. And despite the fact that he tends to be a huge pushover anyway, Dan actually feels _compelled_ to give in to Ross’s insatiable sex drive tonight, rather than guilted into it. He squints his eyes in faux deliberation, then shrugs to himself, and pulls Ross by the belt loops on top of him. It’s a stupid thought, and he’s not sure why he even _cares_ , but Dan sort of hopes that Ross asked because he was jealous of Dan talking to someone else. It’s way beyond Ross’s usual nature to give a shit about things like that, especially since they aren’t anywhere close to being exclusive. Nearly all of the other guys on the swim team would be able to confirm that themselves if Dan had any doubts. Something about the idea of jealousy makes Dan feel _desirable_ , though. Even if it’s wishful thinking, the slight ego boost will help carry him through.

His phone buzzes again a few seconds later on the nightstand where Ross had so carelessly tossed it, and between impatient kisses Dan manages to lean over in time to read the message that leaves the room in a glow.

no problem :) 

“Can I ride you tonight?” Ross asks lowly and close to Dan’s ear, just as his phone screen goes blank and the room goes dark again. Distractedly, Dan nods in response, and Ross shifts so that he has Dan pressed back onto the mattress. Ross whispers something else then, some of the choice words he always saves for when he’s in control like this. Dan doesn’t do much but nod again, and he bets Ross thinks it’s because of how well he’s being seduced. In reality, though, for some strange and frustrating reason, Dan can’t stop thinking about his phone, the unanswered text on it, and the person who sent it. He looks into Ross’s eyes, but his mind is keeping him somewhere else.

With a roll of his eyes at himself, he relaxes back onto the bed a little more, and tries to enjoy the way his roommate’s fingers trail across his skin. It proves to be a stupidly difficult feat- not that he’d ever admit it.

\--

“So do you ever have to wear those shoes?” Arin asks as Dan slips into the passenger seat one night. Dan takes his time buckling his seatbelt with an almost involuntary sigh of exhaustion before he registers what Arin’s said.

The car begins to slowly turn out of the empty parking lot as Dan replies back, “What? Why would _I_ wear the bowling shoes?”

Since Arin picked him up that first night, Dan is glad to have had the revelation that it’s become a regular _thing_ between them. Arin doesn’t even bother checking if Dan needs or wants a ride (because the answer to both is always yes), and Dan doesn’t have to feel guilty about asking Arin himself in a poorly worded text that sort of sheepishly dances around the subject anymore. It’s a win for both of them, apparently, as Arin has assured him plenty of times. He claims that his roommates have somewhat regular sleep schedules, and that he’s always left alone late in the apartment doing anything but being productive anyway. There’s still a sliver of Dan’s brain that feels as though Arin is just telling him that so that Dan will stop pestering him and thanking him for driving just barely over four miles, but the rest of him wants to believe it. So he does.

“No, no, not the bowling shoes. That’d be gross. Do you guys even clean them?” Arin asks, slightly scrunching up his nose.

“I mean, yeah, we kind of have to. If you’re asking if we clean them _well_ , though, I guess the answer is probably a no.”

“Probably?”

“We spray them for a second or two with disinfectant, but that’s it.

“People stick their sweaty feet in the same pairs of shoes all day and you spray them for a _second?_ ”

“ _Arin_ ,” Dan interjects with a shake of his head, smiling through a grimace as Arin talks about the one thing he wishes he had less experience in. He puts his hands up, calling off the feet-talk and asking Arin for mercy. “Dude, I just got off of work, this is the last thing I want to be talking about after a whole night of spraying shoes.”

Arin shrugs, glances over to Dan with a slight smirk. “Well _you’re_ the one who brought them up. I was talking about the pointy ballet slippers, or whatever they’re called.”

Dan can’t help a little laugh at that, finally understanding what his friend’s talking about, and glad at least that they’re done with the talk about awful rental shoes.

“Oh, okay, you mean pointe shoes? Yeah no, I don’t wear those. Male dancers don’t typically do pointe, or wear the “pointy slippers.” I used to be kind of bummed about it as a kid, but seeing some of the feet of the girls in my company now, though… I’m not so jealous anymore.”

“How many other guys are in your company?”

“It’s actually just me. When I was younger I danced with more boys, but I guess it’s not as popular now, or something? Or maybe it’s just our school. Either way, I’m outnumbered. It’s kind of weird being the only guy sometimes.”

Or, a lot of the time, he wants to say. Like, all the time? He should have known that as soon as Arin asked any question related to ballet, his brain would start on its incessant urges to make Dan spill his guts. He’s never encountered anyone that’s genuinely interested in his dancing, or really… any part of him, for that matter. So he can’t say that it isn’t a pleasant change of pace, but at the same time, it’s almost a little dangerous in a way. Dan knows the difference between a light conversation and grossly oversharing all of his fears and struggles, but it’s hard to focus on what he _should_ say when his mind is jumping at the idea of anything that remotely resembles a free therapy session.

Dan takes a deep breath as they stop at an intersection, and a single car turns left while Dan looks over to see Arin’s face illuminated by the red glow of the stoplight. He feels like Arin can sense somehow that he’s holding himself back, in more ways than one. It’s just hard to be sure if he wants Arin to know, or say anything about it.

“Well,” Arin finally says a couple seconds later, although to Dan it felt like so much longer. He blames it on the stoplight, how they always seem to make time tick by just a little bit slower. “I bet you’re, like, _so_ much better than all of them.”

 _No_ , Dan wants to say, _I’m not, and that’s why I can’t stand to be a ballet dancer sometimes._ It’s no secret that the ballerinas are the stars, and any men in a performance are almost always there to support them, to make them look better. To be their backup and their sidekick. It’s hard to dance with that knowledge sometimes, to lift them in the air knowing that the audience will be looking at them instead of at Dan. There are, of course, plenty of male dancers that Dan’s looked up to over the years, and they shine so brightly on their own without any assistance from the girls in their performances. That knowledge somehow only makes it worse, though, because for Dan, he knows that he can’t radiate beauty and precision like they do. He’s stuck on the idea that he’ll always subpar to something or someone else, and it’s a feeling that hasn’t gone away for a long time.

“I don’t know about that,” Dan exhales, forcing something out that’s supposed to resemble a laugh. As the light turns green, he looks away from Arin out the window to let himself cool down. He tries focusing on the passing streetlamps in hopes of calming the self-doubt that’s began bubbling to the surface before it all starts to spill out.

“Well, I don’t know either, because I’ve never seen you dance, but I _do_ know that you’re really cool, so that must count for something. That probably means you’re like, the best ballet dancer ever. It’s just science.”

They pass through another intersection, and although the light is green, Dan feels the red warmth of the beginnings of a blush start to creep onto his cheeks. He’s never really been one to blush easily, especially at such misplaced and undeserved compliments. It’s late, though, so he blames it on how tired he is.

“I don’t think that’s how science works, but thanks, I guess.” Dan rolls his eyes fondly. Soon he sees the familiar campus buildings come into view, and Arin slows the car to a stop at his usual place by the sidewalk. Dan is in the middle of collecting his bag, and double checking that nothing has fallen from it, when Arin speaks up again.

“But seriously, can I see you dance sometime? I think I went to a ballet when I was like six or something, but I didn’t fully appreciate it. I actually think I fell asleep, now that I think about it…”

Dan laughs a little, his hand on the door and hair in his face. “Yeah, sure. I’ll let you know when our next performance is. But you can’t fall asleep, okay? I think I would actually cry if you did.”

Arin smiles back, this goofy and warm little grin that always makes Dan feel instantly less shitty, as if it’s this source of inexplicable magic that can warp anyone’s mood. Dan at least _hopes_ it affects other people in the same way it affects him, or else he’s officially a giant weirdo. Is it so weird, though, to just want someone to smile back at him?

“I won’t, I promise.” Arin assures him.

Dan takes his word for it, and opens the car door to step out into the night. The air is warm and a little humid, a noticeable difference from the cool interior of Arin’s car. It actually makes him feel even sleepier than he already is, and he’s grateful that his building is so close by.

It’s too bad that he isn’t going to be able to sleep as soon as he wants to.

With a leg out the door, right on cue, as if Ross just _lives_ to be an asshole at the worst possible moments for added effect, Dan’s phone buzzes in his pocket. And with just a single look down at the message on its screen, a wave of exhausted frustration falls over him as he slumps back into the passenger seat he had barely started to get out of.

“Is something wrong?” Arin asks, and he sounds so polite that it makes Dan feel _worse_ . Worse because he’s wasting more of Arin’s time, and worse because why can’t _Ross_ be as considerate as him?

Dan considers not saying anything at all, figuring that it’d be worse to bother Arin with his stupid problems than it would be to just leave the car and find somewhere to hang out for another hour or two. There’s this realization that Dan’s come to though, that there’s something about Arin that makes Dan an open, honest book. It must be the way he seems to actually care about whatever Dan’s saying, how he’ll laugh along or smile or just genuinely want to listen. Amazing, how when someone seems to give a shit, Dan can’t stop himself from talking.

“I… uh, yeah. My roommate, he just texted me saying that he has someone over, and he doesn’t want me to be in our room right now.” Dan says tiredly, the words drawled out in a low, frustrated tone. He runs a hand through his only slightly tangled hair and rolls his eyes at what he’s gotten himself into. Not even necessarily at Ross and his antics, but at the fact that he himself keeps _putting up_ with all of it. He knows, even beneath all of the self-loathing and lack of confidence in himself, that he shouldn’t let himself be pushed around like this. It’s just that it sometimes seems like more trouble than it’s worth to go through the process of finding another roommate midway through the school year, especially when often times it feels like Ross is the only one who bothers to put up with him.

“So he’s just… kicking you out of your own room?” Arin asks, sounding a little concerned but mostly dumbfounded. Dan appreciates that someone else sees how ridiculous the notion is, but he can’t help but also start to feel a little embarrassed, too. He doesn’t want Arin to think he’s an idiot for allowing himself to be a pushover while Ross gets what he wants, but he’s already let the info slip and there’s no taking it back now.

“I guess so. It’s just what he does. It’s not all the time, though, so that’s good at least.”

“Still, that’s shitty of him. It’s not like he owns the place, it’s half yours, too.” And good, Arin doesn’t seem to be mentioning anything about Dan’s compliance in all of this, though Dan can’t help but figure he’s at least thinking it- thinking that Dan is so stupid for willfully getting walked all over and hardly batting an eye.

“Yeah, he’s one of the worst people to argue with though, so there isn’t always much I can do. I usually just go find somewhere to kill time for a bit. That’s actually why I was at Insomnia a little while ago when we talked.”

“Well, not to say that I’m glad that your roommate is an asshole, but I’m glad we ended up meeting each other. My roommates aren’t bad or anything but they’re never around, and we don’t have enough in common, you know?”

Dan nods casually, hoping that it’s not too obvious that he’s a little distracted, the words “I’m glad we ended up meeting each other” turning over in his mind. He’s so distracted that when Arin calls his name, it seems as though he’s missed something, and he feels stupid for being so dazed over something that isn’t even that big of a _deal_. As if he wasn’t already embarrassed enough.

“Sorry, what was that?” Dan asks sheepishly, his eyes wandering back over to Arin.

“I said, you can come hang out at my place for a bit if you want. My roommates are asleep so we’ll have to be quiet, but I figure that’s better than you eating your feelings away with cookies again, right?”

Dan nods, maybe a little too eagerly, because Arin is absolutely right. “That would be fucking awesome dude, thank you so much.”

And he pulls the car door back closed with a newfound sense of relief, buckling his seatbelt again as Arin tells him with a playful grin, “You really need to stop thanking me so much.” For once, Dan manages to keep his mouth shut after that instead of making himself look like even more of an idiot.

Arin’s place isn’t too far from campus, but the car ride is just long enough for Dan’s anxiety to begin building again. It’s not that he’s worried about being alone with Arin, because they’ve exclusively spent time with only each other each time they’ve hung out. It’s more this irrational yet still rising fear of Dan not being entertaining enough for him, of feeling like Arin will realize just how boring he really is when they’re sitting there together indefinitely. It’s different when it’s Arin’s own apartment, when it’s not a car ride that’ll be over in ten minutes. Dan figures it’s a good thing that he at least realizes that it’s irrational to be afraid of something like that, but it doesn’t stop the feeling from looming. He can’t recall the last time he went to someone else’s place to hang out, and wonders if it’s something that he can forget how to be good at

“So how many roommates do you have?” Dan asks in a hushed voice when he enters Arin’s apartment for the second time ever. He really tries pushing away the thoughts of when he was here last, because although it ended well, it’s still embarrassing to think about.

Arin slides his messenger bag off of his shoulder and throws it in a room nearby before closing the door to it. Dan tries his best not to be nosy and steal a peek in his bedroom, though he can’t help being curious.

“There’s two others, Barry and Kevin. Our class schedules don’t really line up so I don’t always see them too much, but we all get along.”

Dan nods, the conversation quiet but simple- yet he still feels uneasy. He can’t help the way he voices his concerns, his brain always compelling him to speak before he has a chance to decide if he should or not. He doesn’t want to be known to Arin as the guy that always apologizes, despite it not being an unfitting title by any means. Yet, the words flow out anyway.

“Sorry if this ruins any plans you had or something. You didn’t have to-,”

“You say sorry a lot, did you know that?” Arin asks with his eyebrows raised. He moves over to a very lived-on couch then, and falls onto it gracelessly, leaving Dan to stand there with his mouth hanging open, unable to think of anything not _completely_ stupid to say back. Of course he _knows_ , but he feels like he’s in the way so often, just an obstacle in everyone else’s lives, that his apologies are just part of his daily routine. Except to Ross. Ross hardly ever deserves an apology.

Dan shrugs, and tentatively moves to sit down next to Arin when he gestures for him to. “Yeah, I don’t know. I just don’t want to bother people.”

“See that’s it right there,” Arin says in a voice a little louder than before, enough so that Dan jolts slightly in surprise. Arin shifts towards him then, too, turning his body on the lumpy couch so that he’s facing Dan with one elbow hooked over the back end.

“It’s like when you first took the pictures for me, you were so unsure of yourself. And you say sorry all the time because you’re not confident enough to think that you aren’t a waste of people’s times.”

“I-I… I don’t-,” Dan stumbles over an attempt at a response, because Arin hit the nail on the head, and he doesn’t know how to react to being called out like this. It’s off-putting, and actually mortifying that he isn’t holding himself together as well as he likes to think he is. Arin can see right through the, admittedly cheap, facade of being level-headed that he so desperately tries to maintain.

Arin’s face changes a bit, his features falling so that his expression is softer. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to like, confront you or anything,” He says in a less-excited tone, leaning in a little towards Dan as if to show his sincerity. “I just think you’re pretty cool, and it sucks to think that you don’t think you’re as cool as I do, you know? I mean, you might be a shitty ballet dancer, I still have to wait and see about that, but you’re fun to be around.”

Dan doesn’t know the last time he’s been complimented like this, and it’s jarring. Enough so that he’s just stuck there blushing a little on the couch, his eyebrows raised and his eyes dancing around the dimly lit room so that he doesn’t meet Arin’s gaze. There’s a weird mix of gratitude and embarrassment swirling around in his head, and he doesn’t know which to settle on. So for now, Dan just says the bare minimum to get his point across.

“That’s- wow, thanks, Arin.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just know that you can stop apologizing to everyone, but if you want to start with just me, that’s cool too.” He leans to reach toward the coffee table, then, snagging the remote and turning the TV on so that he and Dan are soon covered in a blueish-white glow. Arin isn’t looking at him anymore, but Dan nods anyway, almost as if assuring himself. His throat feels a little too tight to talk, and he thinks he’d just say something stupid if he tried. Fortunately, though, he feels less compelled to apologize for just existing for once, and they talk quietly for the rest of their night together as they watch reruns of a game show on late-night television.

\--

It’s not that Dan really had too much else to focus on to begin with, so he isn’t sure why he’s surprised by it- the fact that since he started hanging out with Arin, he’s sort of become all that Dan thinks about. It’s not in an obsessive way, either, but in the sort of way where he feels like there’s something new to be excited about. Hanging out with Arin is a new addition to his routine, and it’s nice to have something to look forward to for once that isn’t the questionable prospect of another lazy hookup with Ross.

Those have been less frequent now, too. Dan’s less compelled to give in to whatever Ross wants when he isn’t the only proper source of human interaction Dan’s had all week. It’s all a gradual change, but it’s so welcome. Dan still can’t be sure that Arin’s not bothered by how much time they’re increasingly spending together, but he sure hopes that the feeling is mutual.

Sometimes it’s hard to gauge, though, because Dan hasn’t had anything other than a mostly one-sided friendship in a while. It also doesn’t ease Dan’s uncertainty at all when Arin seems to be acting a little off one night. He doesn’t know whether it’s his place to outrightly question it or not, so he doesn’t say anything as they drive towards the dorms for Dan to be dropped off. Internally, though, Dan is having something stupidly close to a meltdown.

There’s a lack of their usual simple conversation, and the music in the car is the only thing keeping Dan from going totally crazy. Even with the radio on, though, it’s impossible for Dan to focus on anything other than the overt silence between them.

“How was your night?” Dan asks stiffly, feeling the most awkward around Arin that he maybe ever has in the few weeks he’s known him.

“Uh, it was alright. Just… I just did some homework.”

And great. What is Dan supposed to say to that?

As it turns out, nothing, because Arin speaks up again before he can get the chance. His eyes are locked straight out the windshield, no glancing over at Dan like he usually does when making a stupid joke and is looking for a reaction. Dan also notes that Arin’s hands look a little stiff on the steering wheel, though he can’t tell if he’s just imagining it or not.

“Actually,” Arin says, voice and expression unreadable, which only makes Dan feel even more tense. His head starts to swarm with an overage of ideas of what Arin could possibly say next, and he doesn’t really like any of the possibilities. Is Arin sick of spending so much time with him, just like Dan thought? Is he pissed that Dan mooches rides off of him almost every night? Dan really isn’t a confrontational person, so instead of insisting that he actually _likes_ Arin, that he isn’t only using him for rides from work, he’d probably just say he’s sorry and get out of the car, never speaking to Arin again.

Or maybe he’s going to tell Dan that he never really wanted to be friends at all past the photo shoot, and he’s just been too polite to say so this whole time. Dan thinks of how it could be that he’s been so enamored with the feeling of a new friend for the first time in forever that he didn’t even _realize_ how he was basically forcing himself upon Arin, and how annoying he’s been, and that-

“There’s this party, I guess? I don’t know, this girl in one of my classes asked me to go. Barry heard about it, but he isn’t going and I was wondering if you wanted to go? Like, with me? I’ll drive, obviously.”

Dan doesn’t really register much beyond the word “party,” as those two syllables send such a huge wave of relief washing over him that he’s just glad that Arin hasn’t kicked him out of the car for being an awful person. With a sigh that he hopes doesn’t give away how needlessly worried he had been, Dan looks over at Arin, and tries to appear as nonchalant as he can as he shrugs, saying, “Yeah, sure, that sounds cool.”

It’s not until later in the night, back home in his room, that Dan thinks a little harder about the interaction, still recovering from expecting the worst. When he dwells on it more, it seems a little strange that Arin had seemed so out of character over only asking Dan about something as trivial as a party. But then he figures that he hasn’t known Arin for all that long anyway, so is he really the best judge of his character? Dan returns to an empty dorm that night, left alone with his thoughts, pondering something insignificant for much longer than he probably should.

And as it turns out, he shouldn’t have expected that attending a party, something so far out of his comfort zone, wouldn’t somehow go wrong.

“There better not be a bunch of douchey art major hipsters there.” Dan says to Arin as they drive along towards some strangers house. He’s joking of course… mostly. There’s this image that he has in his head, of a room packed full of assholes making stupid remarks about the music playing and wearing berets, because those are apparently trendy right now. It’s not to say that he’ll hate it if nearly every other person attending seems to be his polar opposite, because Arin will still be there, and that counts for something. More than something- Arin’s the only reason he’s even going at all. Still, though, Dan can admit that, because not all other art majors are like Arin, being surrounded by pretentious pricks will definitely make him less excited, to say the least.

Dan is wearing something casual, because he can’t remember the last time he went to a party and isn’t sure how he’s supposed to dress. If he doesn’t count those few times he met up to play D&D with some classmates in high school, Dan guesses he could say that he’s never actually _been_ to a real party, let alone the infamous “college party.” He just hopes that his outfit doesn’t reflect how poorly he assumes he’s going to fit in, because all of his clothes magically seem to be dirty again, and he doesn’t own anything that’s much fancier than a t-shirt and jeans combo, anyway.

Arin laughs a sweet chuckle, and although he didn’t say anything, Dan already feels reassured by the sound. “I can’t guarantee anything. I don’t really know who’s going to be here, except for like… two, three people? So I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

“I can’t wait.” Dan says sarcastically, failing at holding back a smirk.

“It’ll be a surprise! Isn’t that fun?”

Dan shoots him a look, his eyes narrowed coldly despite the smirk still stuck on his face. He’s always been bad at hiding how he really feels, especially when it involves being serious or pretending something isn’t funny. He likes to laugh, is that such a crime?

“I think it’s fun.” Arin says matter-of-factly in an overly bubbly voice, bouncing a little in the driver’s seat and nodding along to his own statement. Dan breaks even further and laughs a little more, and he finds himself wishing that they weren’t on their way to a party where he’s almost certain he’ll inevitably feel uncomfortable. He wishes they could just drive to Arin’s place and watch some anime instead, or even just find an empty parking lot and to sit and talk about nothing in the car. It’d be rude to back out now though, and Arin seems as though he’s actually excited to go. So Dan sucks it up, because it can’t actually be that bad- even if there _are_ people wearing berets.

And he’s right- it’s definitely not his scene, but it isn’t that bad. It’s such an overly stereotypical scene of a college party, and Dan wonders if everyone here took notes to make sure it was up to par with all the teen movie representations. Much to Dan’s dismay, and to Arin’s amusement, one of the first things he notices are the people he’d classify as the “douchey art hipsters,” and they look as pretentious as ever. Some are wearing berets and almost all of them have _much_ nicer jeans than Dan’s, which does not help at all with the way he’s self-conscious about his clothes. They don’t seem _all_ bad, though, because although they’re scattered amongst the few corners of the room and keeping to themselves, he sees a few actually singing along to the garbage pop of the Top 40, and even catches some of them _smiling_. Go figure.

So the people aren’t horrible, the music is rather tasteless but tolerable, and there’s alcohol around if Dan decides he suddenly wants a quick and easy out.

So why does Dan still feel so nervous?

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen half of these people before,” Arin leans in close to tell him as they make their way through the crowd. There’s a decent gathering of people, but not enough so that the house - whoever’s it is - is packed to the walls. There’s still no avoiding getting personal with a few people as Arin leads them to try and find someplace a little less swarming with partygoers.

Dan nods in agreement as he looks on at the people nearby, unsure of if he’s hoping to see a familiar face among the strangers or not. There are acquaintances from classes and semesters past, and even a couple ballerinas from his company that Dan makes a strong mental note to avoid, but he mostly comes up short. It figures, since he doesn’t really speak with anyone on a regular basis outside of Ross and Arin, excluding Melissa because obligations just don’t count. For maybe the first time, Dan considers his lack of friends a _good_ thing, at least in this scenario. There aren’t any awkward conversations as he politely “catches up” with people that he can barely remember the name of waiting around the corner for him, and that, at least, is relieving.

They’ve made their way to a hallway that’s mostly void of people and wordlessly seem to both decide to just stick to the wall there, because what else are you supposed to do at a party?

“I-,” Dan begins, but clamps his mouth back shut again after the first syllable, because his brain is doing that thing again where it makes the decision to speak for him before he can even get a grip on what he’s saying. He has Arin’s full attention now, though, and rolls his eyes at himself to just get it over with.

“I’ll be honest, I’m not really the partying type. Or the drinking type. I kind of just came because you asked me to.” Great one, Dan, he congratulates himself, as if Arin doesn’t already know that Dan would never in _so many_ years be invited to something like this.

Fortunately, instead of being frustrated with him, Arin actually looks a little relieved himself.

“I’m kind of glad you said that, because I don’t really like parties or alcohol either. I’m not great friends with the girl who asked me to come, but I felt bad saying no, you know? That’s why I invited you, though. You usually make everything fun.”

Dan feels his heart rate pick up, and he could swear it’s swelling a little in his chest. That’s how he knows it’s been too long without spending time with anyone decent, because at every little thing Arin compliments him on, he gets this same dramatic, overzealous feeling. It’s stupid and even embarrassing to admit that to himself, though, so Dan tries his best to ignore it and not look like a total idiot on the outside, too.

“Thanks, man.” He replies genuinely. He thinks about how lucky he is to have a friend in Arin, even if he did drag him to some stupid hipster party. He voices his thoughts.

“I know, it is pretty lame, right?” Arin smiles with a grimace, creating this odd expression that Dan can’t help but laugh at.

“Well… I know we just got here, but hear me out- maybe I should just go talk to the girl I know so she knows I showed up, and then we can go back to my place and play Smash.”

If Dan thought the sappy compliments were why he kept Arin around, he’s reminded now that he was absolutely mistaken.

“That sounds fuckin’ amazing, dude.” Dan says, probably a little too excitedly. He has brief passing thoughts of how it’s a little stupid that they drove all the way to someone’s house just to stay for ten minutes tops, but he’s able to keep it all in his brain for once instead of saying it out loud and changing Arin’s mind to stick around for longer.

Arin starts looking around lazily, standing on his tiptoes a bit to see over some of the heads- as if he isn’t already taller than most of the people here. His expression is a little helpless, and after mere seconds of half-assed searching, he announces to Dan that he’s going to have to try harder.

“Okay, I don’t see her anywhere right now, but if you stay here, I’m gonna go find her, and then I’ll meet you again and we’ll totally blow this popsicle stand.”

“Don’t… don’t say that.” Dan looks at Arin, disturbed yet smiling, wondering why he’s using his mother’s dated colloquialisms.

“Too late,” Arin smiles back at him, looking too proud of himself for his own good, before heading off down the opposite end of the short corridor and turning a corner. And suddenly, Dan is standing there by himself, looking like a total loser and everything that he avoided parties to try not to be.

He’s not so much worried that Arin won’t return soon, but more so too aware of all the strangers around him, and how most of them could be watching him just looming there like an idiot. God, he hopes no one tries to talk to him. Especially not one of the girls from his company that he saw earlier, because they _know_ he’s not a party type. They’ll have too many questions for him, like who he came with, if he knows anyone, _why the hell he’s here_. It isn’t something that he wants to deal with right now- or ever, really. Dan mostly only interacts with a few select dancers, the ballerinas that he actually gets along with and that don’t shoot him dirty glances when his footing and his mistakes ruins their spotlight. And the ones that haven’t doubted him from the very start. There aren’t all too many.

“Dan!” Dan thinks he hears someone call for him, and it’s one of those times where he can’t tell if it’s his brain playing some sick joke on him because he’s too hyper-aware of his surroundings, or if there’s someone at this party that actually wants to talk to him for some reason. He doesn’t turn around to search for the source of the voice, if it was even real. If someone’s trying to get his attention, he’s just doing what he usually does in social situations- pretending he didn’t hear them so that he can flee before they catch up.

In this scenario, though, Dan’s not briskly walking to class to avoid some other student. This is different, because Arin asked him to stay put, and there isn’t really enough time to make a break for it, anyway.

“Daaan,” The voice is louder this time, and then there’s a hand on his shoulder so that Dan’s all but forced to turn around to be greeted by… Ross.

Of fucking course it’s Ross.

“What are you doing here?” His roommate asks him, speech coherent enough to give the illusion that he can handle his alcohol, but sloppy enough for Dan to know that he’s already probably four shots in. Or even further, if he knows Ross at all.

Dan shakes his head, more than ready to tell Ross that it’s none of his business - because it isn’t, and he’s allowed to be bitchy about it if he wants to be - but Ross speaks up again before Dan can even get a word in.

“D’you know the last time we had sex?” He says, probably a little too loudly for such a public space. Dan isn’t necessarily closeted, and he knows damn well that Ross is not one to be shy about letting everyone know who he fucks and who he wants to fuck. Regardless, though, Dan thinks that there could be a time and a place for this, and it definitely isn’t here and now. In an ideal world, there wouldn’t be a time and place where Dan would ever have to have this conversation at all, and especially not with a rather intoxicated Ross.

“Dude, you’re-,”

“It’s been like, two weeks!” Ross says, his accent a little more prominent through the effects of the alcohol. Dan’s not really sure what to say to that, though he didn’t expect Ross to allow him time to say much of anything, anyway.

“We’re fuck buddies, that’s what we do. Why are you ignoring me all of a sudden?” Ross has removed his hand from Dan’s shoulder, now, in favor of practically draping himself entirely over Dan’s left shoulder. He’s something close to a dead-weight, so Dan stumbles a little at the sudden leech stuck to his arm, yet can’t seem to shake him without actually prying Ross and his stupidly clingy arms off of him.

Still against the wall, Dan feels like there’s nowhere left to go, but knows that Arin must be getting back soon from wherever the hell he is, anyway. It seems like he’s been waiting here forever- how long has it been, exactly?

In the middle of reaching for his phone in his front pocket to check the time, Ross finds leeway to one-up his roommate and make a move, much to Dan’s discomfort. Ross grabs his hand in his own and all but pins Dan’s arm to the wall, making Dan feel even more stuck than before. He didn’t even know that was possible.

“Can we just do it tonight? So you can make it up to me?” Ross asks, his voice going a little higher pitched, as if to sound sweet, as if that’ll sway Dan into giving in. He doesn’t have much time to deliberate, as if he would say anything other than “fuck off” anyway, before Ross dives in without an answer.

Half-against the wall of a corridor in some stranger’s house, Ross starts drunkenly trying to make out with Dan. Dan knows that abruptly shoving his friend off of him in a house full of people will garner him too much attention, and that’s really the last thing he wants right now. Honestly, Ross isn’t even that bad of a kisser while drunk, and with the lack of exciting things to do at this party, kissing Ross really isn’t the worst option he can think of. Dan just doesn’t want to be _those_ people at the party, though, the drunk people grinding on each other in the corner for everyone to see. Plus, he doesn’t think he really wants to be kissing Ross at all, if he has the choice.

In the seconds-long turmoil, trying to, as gently and as subtly as he can, get Ross the fuck off of him, his mind chimes in to tell him that there’s another reason for it. And then he can’t stop thinking of Arin.

Was this supposed to be something other than just some girl’s party that Dan was tagging along to? Did being Arin’s plus-one mean more than just keeping Arin company and being a good friend? He has no reason to believe any of it, but as Ross keeps kissing him sloppily, it’s all that’s on his mind, and he’s worried. If his own unwillingness to indulge Ross’s drunken desires wasn’t enough to make him completely shove Ross away, any senseless thoughts of disappointing Arin definitely do it for him.

“Ross, seriously? Not here.” Dan tells him in as stern a voice he can as soon as his lips are free. He knows he should probably have said something less lenient, something that didn’t imply that, under other circumstances, he’d totally be down to fuck. But that’s another worry for another time.

A quick glance around the room tells him that no one seems to care that Ross wanted to fuck right there against the wall, or even that anyone had noticed. Except, when Dan turns around to check behind him, there’s at least one person who caught sight of it.

The look on Arin’s face seems to convey that he thinks he shouldn’t have seen what he did, like he walked in on something intimate, as if they aren’t in the middle of a hallway in a whole building full of people. Dan’s first thought is to apologize, but he holds his tongue, because what would he be apologizing for, really? Would it be, hey Arin, sorry you had to see that? Sorry for making out with this guy when I was supposed to be hanging out with you? Sorry if you thought you and I were something that I wasn’t aware of? None of those options are fitting, and so he finds it in himself to not say any of them.

Dan makes this weird sort of gesture at Ross, who’s already bored and starting to walk back in the other direction, as if hoping to somehow convey, “He just kissed me, I swear we’re not a thing, not… not really,” all without words. Dan also sort of hopes that the motions of his hands and the idiotic, dumbfounded expression on his face also beg the silent question, “Was this supposed to be a date?” Whatever Arin takes away from the whole interaction, he doesn’t let Dan know about it, and instead acts as though what he saw didn’t even happen. Because it’s clearly not a big deal, and why should it be? Why does Dan always manage to get mixed up in a whirlwind of instant and misplaced anxiety over nothing?

“We can leave now, if you want.” Arin says, and Dan tells himself he’s just imagining the slight change in his voice, the way that it’s just barely too even now and completely unreadable. Dan just nods, and goes to head back the way they came in, the front door not even twenty feet away but feeling like it could not be further out of reach as he squeezes through the bustling crowd again.

They get in the car without any words, even though Dan has an unrelenting urge to just make small talk, crack a joke, say one of his stupid apologies- really _anything_ to make him feel as though Arin isn’t upset with him. He stays silent, though, because why _would_ Arin be upset? There’s no reason for him to be, and Dan is convinced it’s all just in his head.

He rests his head on the window after buckling his seatbelt, and closes his eyes shut for the rest of the car ride. It must be obvious that he isn’t sleeping or anything, but he figures that since Arin doesn’t seem to want to talk, there isn’t much else that he can do. Maybe talking to the girl that he knew didn’t go so well. Maybe Arin is just in a bad mood because of reasons unknown to Dan, like a headache or an annoying text. Whatever it is, Dan hopes that the strange tension that’s appeared won’t last, because he finds it strikingly odd, and maybe even a little disappointing, to be in the car with Arin and not have anything to talk about. He just hopes, if anything, that Arin doesn’t ask about Ross.

But why would he care if he did? Why does _Dan_ care?

Not even a day later, it becomes more than clear to Dan why. And he feels so unbelievably dense that he’d been so blind to his own emotions up until this point. It wasn’t the late-night conversations and all the times Arin had made him smile that gave him this realization- it was when Ross had his lips on him, and Dan was standing there with the sudden thought in his head that he wished they were Arin’s lips instead. Since Dan has had this epiphany that he’s developing some real feelings for Arin, it’s sort of all that he can think about.

He took two tests the day after the party, back to back, but so distractedly that he’s almost certain he failed both of them. Melissa is pushing everyone a little harder than usual, because their performance is in just under a week, but Dan finds himself more wrapped up in the idea of Arin finally coming to see him dance than in keeping focus during practice. And at work, his manager mentions on _two_ separate occasions how spaced out Dan seems during his shift, asking if he’s feeling alright. And, although it feels dumb to admit it, Dan doesn’t really know how to answer her.

It’s too many different things to handle at once, and so Dan’s somewhat grateful that he and Arin haven’t spoken since the party, even if it’s also a little disheartening at the same time. He doesn’t know what he would _say_ , what is he _supposed_ to say? Nothing out of the ordinary even happened, yet Dan can’t shake this feeling that something is off. The better half of him knows that it must mostly be due to the newly realized feelings that won’t stop swarming in his head, so he tries to shake off the uneasiness that won’t stop lurking for two whole days. Arin hasn’t texted him at all, sure, but even Ross hasn’t mentioned anything of that night since. Dan lets himself be convinced that he’s overthinking it all as per usual. He’s psyching himself out, making a whole internal ordeal over something trivial and meaningless.

So when the fire alarm goes off in the dorms on the third day of radio silence from Arin, it seems like a perfectly reasonable idea to finally text Arin first while he’s standing around grumpily outside with all of the other students in his building. Since it wasn’t a big deal, after all, and things shouldn’t be any different between them.

dude. the fire alarm is going off at the dorms. apparently some guy didn’t know to add water to the pot for his ramen and his noodles caught on fire.

He sends off the message with sleepy, still slightly bleary eyes, hoping that the few words strung together on a screen are enough to accurately convey his bad mood. There are probably people standing around that are worse off, the students that have early-morning tests and jobs to go to- Dan definitely doesn’t envy them. Their worse plights do little to ease his aggravation, though, because although he doesn’t have any tests in just a few hours, he knows what a world of trouble a lack of sleep will cause him while dancing, and especially for a whole shift at work afterward. It’s true that Dan doesn’t get as much sleep as he should, anyway, but it’s probably because the times he manages to accidentally fall asleep at a decent time due to exhaustion, he’s rudely awoken by some idiot that doesn’t know how to make ramen. The world, it seems, doesn’t want to allow Dan Avidan to rest.

Dan’s first thought was to text Arin because, admittedly, Arin has been at the forefront of his mind for the past two days, and he could barely stop himself from pressing send. It was also in hopes of catching Arin awake too, though, so that he could serve as a distraction from Dan’s grogginess. And the groggy Ross that’s currently practically half-asleep as he leans his head on Dan’s shoulder, wrapped in a bed sheet.

He doesn’t hate Ross. Even with the way Dan gets treated sometimes, it’s not in Dan’s nature to hold a major grudge against anyone, or to act out of spite for them. Ross has it in him to be clingy at times, and he’s clearly tired, just like everyone else- Dan gets it. He’s not going to shove Ross off of his shoulder just because he tried kissing him at a party when he was hammered to shit.

Still, it doesn’t mean that Dan likes getting drooled on.

Without an immediate text back, and the sound of the shrill and incessant fire alarm still droning from inside the building, Dan grows impatient. It’s verging on 3:30 in the morning, and Dan knows that it’s probably not in his best interest to call Arin at such a late hour. But he’s frustrated, and he doesn’t know when they’ll let them back inside again, and he mostly just wants to see Arin again. So his thumbs find and press the contact before his better judgement can cause him to decide against it.

In just two and a half rings, Arin picks up, much to Dan’s content.

“Hello?” Arin says, and Dan wonders if he even checked to see who was calling before answering, if he knows that it’s Dan. If he had to guess, Dan would say that he just answered blindly, basing the assumption off of this awful panging thought of how Arin hasn’t texted him in two days, and if he’d seen it was Dan, he might not have even answered.

“Hey,” Dan says, smiling down the line with this sleepy grin that creeps up on him involuntarily. His eyes still feel like they won’t quite open all the way yet, but he’s suddenly not in such a bad mood as before.

“Are you okay?” Arin asks next. Dan’s unable to ignore the way his heart starts beating just that little bit faster at the idea of Arin firstly making sure that Dan is okay at 3 AM rather than chewing him out for waking him. Although, quickly after the thought, Dan realizes Arin almost sounds a little more skeptical than concerned, as if checking if Dan is playing a prank on him, or calling to drunkenly bother Arin with some stupid problem that won’t matter as much in the morning, like not being able to find the other one of his slippers. Dan only _guesses_ that’s what Arin might think, if only because Ross has called Dan with that exact problem more than once.

“I’m fine, yeah,” Dan says, “I just-,” He stops, and sighs, because he already feels like he owes Arin more gas money than he’ll be able to afford in the next few months, but he doesn’t want to stand outside any longer. And he wants to see him.

“Look, I know I already ask you for rides like, all the time. But I’m standing outside the dorms in my pajamas, and I don’t even know if I’d _fit_ on your couch, but I-,”

“You probably won’t.”

“What?”

“Fit on my couch, that is.”

Dan sighs, his eyebrows drawing together as he realizes that Arin may be trying to let him down nicely. “So… Y-you can’t come pick me up?”

“Of course I’ll come pick you up. I’m just saying that you might be a little squished on the sofa.”

Springing back quickly, Dan smiles again, and he likes to think that he can hear Arin smiling through his words on the other end, too.

“Dude, thank you so much. I was about ready to just go find a bench in the quad and sleep there.”

“Well don’t do that, that’s stupid. I’ll be there in ten.”

Arin hangs up before Dan can, and from there, Dan just waits it out. The sound of the fire alarm doesn’t stop, Ross’s head doesn’t leave his shoulder, and he fights the incredible urge to check the time on his phone every thirty seconds, as if that’ll make it go faster. When Arin’s car does finally pull up nearby, he relishes in the relief it brings him, especially when he gets to shake Ross awake and leave him standing alone wrapped in his wrinkled bed sheet with only a smug departing wave. He can’t sleep until they get to the apartment, but being able to drive away from the building that won’t let him rest makes Dan feel a lot better already.

“Who doesn’t know how to make ramen?” Arin asks as he pulls back out onto the main road, glancing over at Dan with a questioning and amused look. Dan laughs in response, because now that he’s not stuck outside his room, so close yet so far, he can find the humor in it, too.

And with a smile on his face, Dan realizes that nothing feels out of place.

There was this irrational fear that had been building in Dan, wondering if Arin’s lack of texts meant that he was angry or upset with Dan. He couldn’t tell if things would be tense and horrible once he got in the car or not, but it’s a greatly reassuring feeling to realize now that his worrying had been for nothing.

Just because there doesn’t seem to be a problem, though, doesn’t mean that Dan and his mildly delirious and sleep-deprived brain won’t bring it up.

“I haven’t seen you since the party.” He says, his tone casual rather than definitive and accusatory, because he doesn’t want to make Arin mad. If Arin needed a break from seeing Dan almost every day, Dan wouldn’t blame him. Still, he mentions it, as if just to garner a reaction. To judge how Arin is really feeling.

Arin lets go of a breathy sort of laugh that Dan can’t help but feel is disingenuous, and replies, “Yeah, I’ve been… I’ve been busy. I have a project due soon that I’m behind on.” And yeah, that makes sense to Dan. He takes it for what it is, because he reads into things too much already, and he doesn’t want to work himself up again. At least not without a good night’s sleep first.

“Thanks for coming to get me.” Dan says, his eyes drooping despite his best efforts to keep them open. He feels half-asleep already, and he’s only been in the car for a couple minutes.

“No problem, dude.”

“Yeah, dude.” Dan says back with his eyes fully closed now, laughing a little. His words come out so lazily that he almost feels drunk, though he still has a grasp on what he’s saying. It feels like it’s a dream he’s still awake for, hearing the engine hum and seeing the continuous passing of streetlamps from under his eyelids- it all lulls him into this strange, contented state. He hopes Arin doesn’t think he’s crazy.

“We’re performing our ballet on Friday night, if you want to come watch.” Dan informs Arin.

“Of course I want to come watch. Text me the place and everything later and I’ll be there.”

“Cool,” Dan smiles to himself, and Arin seems to catch on.

“Why are you smiling at everything I say?” He hears Arin ask curiously, and he’s right- Dan’s smile is still stupidly wide for a reason that he can’t really seem to place.

“Because you’re just- you’re the best. You’re the best to me.” He answers sleepily, and inwardly he knows that Arin must be so weirded out by him at this point, but he can’t help the way the words come out. Vaguely he thinks he hears Arin say thank you, or something close to it, but it doesn’t fully register. The next thing he knows, Arin’s pushing at his shoulder to wake him up, and they’re in the parking lot of the apartment complex. Despite knowing how short the usual drive is, Dan could swear that he’s been asleep for hours. The power nap still wasn’t enough to tide him over, so he unbuckles his seatbelt to climb the stairs, wandering to the promise of a couch that’s too small but better than a park bench somewhere outside.

As soon as Arin unlocks the door, Dan walks inside to all but collapses onto the sofa, his face smushed into the cushions and too bothered to care about how clean they may or may not be. Arin tells him goodnight, and retreats off to this bedroom that’s only a short ways away. Dan doesn’t remember falling asleep.

\--

It’s easy for Dan to fall back into his routine with Arin again after that, even if he thinks about him in a completely different way now. He hadn’t realized how used to spending so much time with him he’d become until he had to go a mere two days without the familiarity. It’s just watching movies or playing games, or even sometimes just sitting in the living room together while they both do their homework silently- but it’s become all that Dan relies on to keep himself sane. It’s a wonder to Dan how he ever managed to not lose his mind when he only had Ross to return home to after every gruelling day of his busy schedule; the best part is, though, he doesn’t have to worry about that now. As long as Arin still wants him around, Dan doesn’t know why he’d ever choose to go back to Ross’s rude remarks and constant requests to hook up if he can help it.

The fact that he dwells on it so much - that this is the best friendship Dan has ever had with someone - is what keeps his crush mostly at bay. The thought of accidentally revealing his stupid crush and throwing off the beautiful balance of everything they have really freaks him out, so he’s careful. From what he can tell, Arin doesn’t feel the same way, yet Dan knows that he shouldn’t make a move on him just to verify that. He’s not going to fuck things up just because his heart might want him to. He’s painfully aware of the fact that he and Arin aren’t starring in their own rom-com where everything will work out. Spontaneous professions of feelings never go as well as people hope they will, Dan knows that for certain. It’s not too difficult to just suck it up and deal with his incessant feelings. He’s an adult, and he’s in control of his heart.

Right?

It’s harder to convince himself to believe that the more time he spends with Arin. Especially tonight, as they watch some shitty Adam Sandler movie together at Arin’s place, with the lights off and their voices low so as not to wake the roommates asleep in their rooms close by. Arin is, ironically, laughing at how bad the attempts at comedy are in the movie, but Dan couldn’t be paying less attention to some try-hard, mediocre jokes. Although his eyes are trained on the screen, he’s stuck on this one thought, thinking that he never knew a couch could feel this small but equally as big at the same time. And he turns over it enough times that he can’t help where his mind wanders.

He feels like Arin is so close but that he could be closer, and like Arin’s voice is so prominent in his ears although they’re both speaking in near whispers. He can’t tell which thoughts are the rational ones anymore. Dan’s heart is taking over, doing the thinking for him, and he realizes how stupid he was to ever think he could control the way he felt.

Hyper-aware of how Arin’s shoulder bumps his a little when he laughs sometimes, and how close together their legs are, it’s hard to remember when to laugh along so as not to reveal that he couldn’t be more spaced out in his own thoughts. It’s the worst when Arin leans over to whisper stupid jokes to him, because Dan nearly has to hold his own arms around himself to keep from leaning back into the ghost of Arin’s breath warm on his neck. He goes tense at it, and Dan doesn’t know the last time he’s felt this ridiculous and embarrassed by all his thoughts that no one else can even hear.

It isn’t as though he’s never been intimate like this before, if he even dares to label it as that. It isn’t as though Ross didn’t beg for sex only a week ago- or is it two, now… or three? Whenever it last was, Dan knows that this is so different than that. It’s different because it _feels_ different. His heart won’t slow down because Arin keeps getting close, and Dan’s not ever a particularly sweaty person, but his hands are so unusually clammy as he keeps them in tight fists in his lap. It feels like he’s a high schooler with his first absurd and ever-growing crush- yet he can’t help but _like_ the way that it feels. It’s exciting, even if he’s the only one that gets to know about it.

As if Arin wasn’t the only thing on his mind as of late already, the feelings Dan has start to build and intensify, and before he knows it he’s _pining_ over the idea of Arin, and being near him. Even something as simple as _holding his hand_ has caught Dan up in a daydream more than once. It’s all a little frustrating, but for the life of him, Dan can’t seem to keep himself away from Arin to try and alleviate the small obsession.

It’s not really a problem, of course. There’s no harm in the most subtle forms of flirting known to man, or wishing that instead of watching movies together, they were making out on the sofa instead. Dan manages to keep it under wraps, and it’s _fine_.

Until he realizes that Friday that, for the first time before a performance, he could not be any further from fine.

Dancing for an audience has always been something that Dan looks forward to. He might bullshit his way through practices some days, might show up late or ruin his own steps with his lack of sleep- but Dan still _loves_ ballet. He likes the rush he gets under the stage lights, knowing that even if he isn’t great at much else, he’s a moving piece of _art_ during a ballet, and he’s owning that title.

Tonight isn’t any different. There are just minutes before his company’s performance of _L'arbre du Siècle_ , and Dan is excited to finally showcase to the audience what he’s been rehearsing for. It’s just that it’s hard to focus on the excitement when it’s buried underneath a deep well of anxiety that toys with Dan’s gut and makes his fingers tremble. And he knows exactly why, too.

For a little while, Dan kept running over the same incessant thought of “Why the hell am I nervous?”, as if he couldn’t figure out the answer for himself. As if Dan doesn’t know that he wants to be the most graceful ballet dancer that Arin has ever seen, as if he doesn’t know that he wants Arin to see that there’s something worthwhile and desirable about the guy that works at a bowling alley with tangled hair and immature jokes.

He lied to himself for a total of only five minutes before leveling with himself and settling on the facts- Dan couldn’t bring his thoughts away from this vision of Arin sitting somewhere in the crowd, and that was making him beyond fucking anxious. He’d be watching, judging Dan’s dancing in a way that bothered Dan even more than if it were a professional dance critic out there instead. Dan feels as though that this is a shot he has to prove his worth to Arin. If Dan can’t be good for much aside from having Arin drive him places and playing video games, he can show Arin now that there’s something positive to his character. Dan wants Arin to see that he can be beautiful and a _work of art_ \- if only for one night.

So he tries not to dwell on the worries that plague his brain. There’s this impending pressure to performing now that he’s unfamiliar with, something that’s different from eager anticipation, but he doesn’t want it to interfere with his dancing. This show is for the audience, and Arin of course, too- but Dan wants to feel content with himself, to be moved by the music and to just let his passions take him instead of thinking with his dick. He knows he can do this.

And so he does.

The performance goes better than Dan could have expected. All the lights heat his skin, almost unbearably so, but it just drives Dan to jump higher. He lifts the ballerinas up so smoothly that no one could guess that it strains his muscles, even if it is only just slightly so. Arin comes to mind in brief flashes throughout the ballet, but it isn’t distracting- if anything, it makes Dan feel even more elegant as he lets himself dance freely.

There is a minor slip up Dan has during one of his big leaps, where he lands a little wrong. It’s such a minor mistake that he corrects himself so easily that he’s sure no one has noticed it, and it only leaves a small pang in his ankle that he dances through without hesitation. Aside from that, though, Dan, the king of self-loathing, feels proud of himself for once, and he loves the feeling- however fleeting it may be.

Dan’s not usually one to excessively sweat, but he’s definitely glistening with a light sheen of it by the time that the show is over. Backstage, Dan takes the most minimal amount of time possible to check in with Melissa and change back into loose-fitting clothes again.

He finds his way back into the main lobby of the performance hall where Arin had texted he’d be waiting for him, and as soon as Dan spots him, still already pumped full of residual adrenaline, he feels like his smile that forms could split his cheeks.

“Dan. Oh my god.” Arin says to him once he’s within earshot, and it makes Dan’s heart flutter even more to hear the sound of his voice after something so invigorating, and to see the expression on his face.

“You were so good. Good isn’t even the word for it, you were… you were so amazing. I don’t know the first thing about ballet but I know that you killed that. You just looked so good up there, doing your thing, and in tights, too!”

Dan’s smile doesn’t falter for a second, yet he feels like it’s not enough to convey how pleased he feels. For a moment, Dan catches Arin’s eyes, as if somehow hoping to convey everything that he wants to say but can’t find the words for. And all the things that he’s too afraid to say, too.

“Thank you so much, I’m so glad you came. It’s different when there’s a friend in the crowd, you know?”

Arin nods as if he does know, his face bright and his eyes a little too wide, though to Dan it’s more endearing than creepy.

“Of course, dude. This was so much better than sitting around playing video games instead. Come on, I’m buying you cookies to celebrate, one of every kind.”

Dan wants to object, because he should really be watching what he eats more, and he doubts he could make it through more than three of Insomnia’s cookies before feeling sick. The energized feeling that lights up his stomach and warms his limbs overrules the urge to reject the offer, though, so Dan just says a short and sweet, “Fuck yeah,” in response, knowing that it’s all the answer that Arin will need to know he’s on board.

In the parking lot, though, while making their way over to Arin’s car, the energized feeling begins to fade, and for the first time since he walked off stage, a different feeling begins to set in that he didn’t notice before.

With a short little hiss, Dan glances down at his ankle, realizing now that the misstep on stage might have been more of a problem than he originally thought. A quick once-over reveals that his ankle is only just slightly swollen and not bruised at all, so Dan’s relieved to know that he wasn’t distracted from the pain of a sprain just by the adrenaline rush and determination he was dancing through. Despite it not being too serious, though, Dan can’t help but admit that it definitely doesn’t feel good to walk on.

“Whoa, you alright?’ Arin asks, stopping in the parking lot to place a hand on Dan’s shoulder and to also glance down at the ankle in question.

“It’s fine, I just had a little problem onstage. It should be fine by the morning, though.” Dan says dismissively, determined not to make a bigger deal out of this than he needs to. If there’s anything Dan hates more than his own incompetence sometimes, it’s the pity he receives from others for it. He begins to walk off again, although his steps are a little out of rhythm now, weight shifting in a way so as to cause him as little discomfort as possible. In all of his career as a dancer, this is among the mildest of injuries he’s not only had himself, but seen in the studio afflicting other dancers. Even if there’s a little pain, it’s nothing Dan can’t shake off with a couple of ibuprofen and a decent sleep. It could be so much worse.

Arin, however, doesn’t seem to take it as lightly.

“Dude, you shouldn’t be walking on it like that.” Arin says to Dan, voice concerned and hand still on Dan’s shoulder. Dan wants to ask if Arin really even knows what he’s talking about, but figures it’d make less of a scene to just shrug and accept the help instead of pushing Arin away when he’s in need.

Once they arrive back at Arin’s apartment, it seems that he’s advanced into full-blown nurse mode. As it turns out, he isn’t as knowledgeable about nursing injuries as he might have made Dan first believe, but he seems way too focused for Dan to even consider telling him to back down. Dan knows to stay off his foot, or at least to not do any major walking for the next day or two, but Arin’s taking this a little more seriously.

After gently guiding Dan to the en-suite in his bedroom and then carefully up onto the bathroom counter, Arin is prepared with a bag of ice, a full Wikihow on how to care for twisted ankles, and a huge bout of determination. If it were anyone else, Dan thinks he might be annoyed. But of course, since it’s Arin, he can’t help but think that this is all so fucking endearing.

Dan sits quietly and patiently, his foot propped up on Arin’s lap, who’s sat on the closed lid of the toilet seat and looking back and forth between his phone and Dan’s ankle with narrowed eyes. He seems to be trying to decipher the unhelpful pictures of the Wiki into the correct way to bandage Dan’s aching foot. By the look on Arin’s face, Dan is unsure if it’s going well or not.

In the comfortable silence, Dan entertains himself by looking around the bathroom, feeling unreasonably curious to see how Arin keeps it, to see how he lives. The shower curtain that’s pulled back reveals a couple pink, floral scented soaps and body wash along the shelves that Dan cracks a smile at. Then, Dan’s eyes wander further, and they end up landing on his own reflection in the mirror.

And he doesn’t know if he’s ever seen himself blushing harder.

He, of course, works on convincing himself that he must still be flushed from the ballet.

“Arin,” Dan says, voice soft in an attempt not break Arin’s concentration, “I really appreciate the help, but this kind of stuff happens a lot. It’s minor, so I can probably just wrap it up myself-,”

“ _No_ , Dan, I can _totally_ do this,” Arin interjects, voice playfully stern, though Dan gets the feeling that it’s a little more on the serious side. He knows at this point in their friendship that Arin is stubborn enough, and there may be no point in trying to reason with him about this. He means well, at least.

Though, Dan might have to try a little harder in getting Arin to stop if he doesn’t want his ankle to feel any worse than it already does. Despite the gentle touches and the efforts to be careful with Dan’s sore foot, Arin soon moves it in a way that has Dan wincing again, jerking away slightly from the touch.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Arin apologizes immediately, looking up at Dan with sincerity in his eyes.

Dan waves him off, although he definitely feels like his ankle is throbbing a little more than it was before.

Most likely seeing past the bullshit, Arin offers Dan a sympathetic look next, reaching up to pat him on the knee and asking, “Do you want me to kiss you where it hurts?”

And sure, maybe that’d be funny under normal circumstances. It still is funny now, but when the circumstances are Dan vulnerable and tired on Arin’s bathroom counter, staring at Arin when he’s not looking like he holds the whole world, all the while with his heart beating like it’s begging him to say _something_ , _anything_ \- under these circumstances, that one little remark makes Dan’s heart leap all the way up into his throat.

He can feel himself blushing, but avoids looking in the mirror again to spare himself the further embarrassment. At a loss for words, Dan just shakes his head, forcing himself to roll his eyes in that playful way that he does. He never knew that he’d have to actually refuse a kiss from Arin, and he just didn’t think he’d have that much trouble with speaking when it came to it.

Arin fortunately goes back to wrapping then, making something of Dan’s ankle that more closely resembles a children’s homemade mummy costume than anything medical or beneficial to Dan’s health at all. Dan finds that he doesn’t mind, though. Another wrong move has Dan hissing through his teeth not long after the first time, leg muscles tensing a little in response to Arin’s touch. This time, though, one of Arin’s hand travels up to Dan’s shin to rub at it soothingly, making Dan almost just positively melt at the simple gesture.

As fun as it is to play doctor and to be all fixed up, Dan doesn’t know how much more of this he can take, and really hopes that Arin gets frustrated enough with the Wiki to give up sooner rather than later.

\--

“Damn, you seem tired tonight. You need some rest.” Arin remarks later on in the week as Dan slumps into the passenger seat he has grown so familiar with. If it were almost anyone else, Dan really wouldn’t appreciate the comment, because yeah, he fucking _is_ tired. But it’s Arin, and Dan has grown to be so, _so_ weak for him, sometimes in the worst way possible. So he opens up instead of shutting down.

“Yeah, just a bad shift. And like, normally, I would just go right to sleep once I get home, but I promised myself I’d finally go to the laundromat tonight. I think I’ve worn everything in my closet at least twice now… maybe three times.”

“Well shit, I’ll come with you, if you want. That way it’ll get done quicker and you can get back to the dorms to sleep faster.”

And really, Dan’s not sure why he ever expected Arin to just listen complacently to his stupid, self-inflicted problems without offering to tag along to help. Because it’s what he’s done for Dan thus far, so Dan should have seen it coming. Maybe he just wouldn’t have thought he deserved another sweet and selfless act from Arin, no matter how small the gesture.

Dan stares back at Arin with this sleepy-eyed but incredulous stare, so enamored in that moment that he feels like this might be the moment that he finally can’t contain himself and just lunges to go in for a long-awaited kiss. He, fortunately, does manage to keep his hands to himself and doesn’t force his lips onto Arin’s in the fashion of Ross, but he does still feel so wrapped up in his feelings for Arin, the usual bits of pining and adoration seeming multiplied at this late hour of the night. Dan knows subconsciously that is must just be the grogginess in his brain that’s must be amplifying his emotions right now, however that thought doesn’t stop a sleepy grin from spreading on his face.

“You’re the best, man, thank you.” He says to Arin, so sincere, though he wonders if Arin takes him as seriously when he’s as tired and loopy as he is now.

Arin, of course, barely accepts the gratitude, and shift the car into drive to makes way towards the dorms to pick up Dan’s entire wardrobe for cleaning.

On the ride over to the laundromat, Dan has, unsurprisingly, managed to fall asleep. It seems as though some of the most uncomfortable places for a man over six feet tall to sleep, like a cramped passenger car seat or a couch that’s too small, are the places that Dan tends to drift away the most easily.

He’s awoken by Arin after an indeterminable amount of time later, staring up at him standing in the laundromat’s parking lot outside Dan’s open car door. Arin’s gazing down at Dan with an expression that Dan reads as amused but unsurprised, and definitely unimpressed.

“We’re here, come on.” Arin tells him, cocking his hip out a bit as he waits. Dan knows that he shouldn’t do it, but even five more seconds of staying in the car will do wonders for him, he’s certain of it.

“Okay, just… give me a sec…” Dan responds, or rather more accurately _whines_ , and lets his head loll back to the other side, facing away from Arin. He knows he can’t get back to sleep at this rate, but maybe he’s feeling a little flirty tonight- and what can really go wrong with that?

A lot, apparently.

Arin ducks down to lean into the car, and picks up one of Dan’s arms, beginning to pull on it childishly in an attempt to get Dan into the laundromat to do his stupid laundry. But Dan’s too resistant, and before he knows it, Dan hears the scrape of Arin’s shoe along the asphalt, and turns his head back to view the commotion. And there Arin is, inches from his face, one hand still wrapped around Dan’s forearm, and the other supporting himself on the roof of the car for the perfect lean right into Dan’s personal space. If Dan didn’t know how to keep his feelings at bay at this point, he thinks this may have been another instance that he easily would have just swooped in the rest of the way for the kiss his thoughts won’t stop lingering on. He won’t take the risk, though. Not tonight, not here. Maybe under different circumstances, in a different universe where Dan is as brash as his heart allows him to be, unapologetically defiant.

With nothing more than a soft giggle, Dan looks up at Arin, who has hair falling all into the bewildered expression on his face, and says, “Smooth.”

Once Arin seems to have recovered and Dan is awake enough to not need the incessant tug of someone on his arm to get him up, they do finally make it inside the laundromat. Thankfully, the place is open 24 hours, yet completely deserted on a Tuesday evening close to midnight. There’s small talk as Arin helps Dan shove loads of wrinkled clothes into the washers, but once they both settle into seats across from each other at some of the nearby tables to wait, the sleepiness that plagues Dan ceaselessly seems to have caught up with Arin as well. They’re silent with each other then, yet not uncomfortably so.

The fluorescent lights are bright, just one level away from making Dan’s eyes sting. And the washers make this hum as the water churns inside, and the TVs are set to a low volume, the murmur of a news story creating just a low droning buzz for background noise. Dan’s alone with his thoughts. Time seems as though it’s going by a little slower here, and if Dan knew that it wasn’t just the lack of sleep talking, he’d think himself crazy for imagining this empty laundromat as some sort of surreal and oddly entrancing dream. Dan’s eyes focus on Arin, who’s zoned out watching the news with his chin resting in his palm, his mouth slightly open, and his eyes half-lidded.

And Dan thought the laundromat was the dream.

There’s something about the way that Dan feels stuck in a perfect lull between asleep and awake that makes him feel, at least just for now, like he could never leave this place. And when he realizes too that he can’t seem to keep his eyes off of Arin, as if he’s been able to at all in these past few weeks, he gets this feeling that starts to build and build in his chest.

Maybe it’s time to spill his guts.

What’s the point in letting it simmer in his mind for days on end like he has been? Turning away to blush and averting his eyes from staring with perfect timing- all for what? His brain urges him to do that thing again, where he’s speaking before really thinking about what he’s saying. This time, though, Dan finds that he doesn’t seem to mind it quite as much.

“Hey Arin, I-,” He begins, and Arin blinks a few times when he looks over, focusing, his attention gained. Their eyes meet, and Dan barely chooses his words himself as much as his heart does.

“I... I think that I’m really falling for you.”

And who was he to think that things would go right for someone like him?

Arin’s face immediately falls, expression changing from a drowsy, unfocused haze to an awake, blank stare. Then his eyes won’t look anywhere close to Dan’s, though Dan is staring back at him anyway, as if hoping that the longer he looks, the more it’ll make Arin finally look his way again. After what seems like the longest and most hellish few seconds of Dan’s life, his heart pounding relentlessly, Arin speaks up.

“I’m sorry,” He says, voice so quiet, the quietest Dan’s heard it, “I can’t do this.”

Before he knows it, Dan is left at the laundromat alone, staring up with his head slightly tilted back so that he’s trained up at the ceiling to keep in his tears. As if it matters if he cries, as if there’s anyone else around to spectate his misery. The hum of the washers now sounds so much less soothing than it did before, the noise now a constant and irritable ache in Dan’s ears and in his head. He wonders why things panned out this way, but more importantly, why the hell he _let_ things turn out this way at all.

Who was he kidding, thinking that he could finally, for once, just manage to get something right?

\--

As much as Dan was thinking his entire world would fall apart, miraculously enough, hardly anything changes. Dan finished his laundry on his own that night, and took the late bus back to the dorms to mope and sulk and feel sorry for himself. The very next day, though, he received a text from Arin asking what time he needed to be picked up from work, and his heart wouldn’t stop its little jumps at the words on the screen.

Maybe Dan expected a serious conversation about his confession, and was naive to think that he could confess and they could talk about things without it being terribly uncomfortable. He doesn’t blame Arin for leaving, not _really_ . As long as they can discuss it now, or at least put it past him, then things will be fine. When Arin does pull up at the bowling alley later that night, though, there are no words on dirty laundry or Dan’s feelings at all. And that’s when Dan realizes just how bad things are- Arin felt so weird about it that he was _pretending it didn’t happen._

At least that’s what Dan assumes Arin’s doing. Because he’s making conversations like he always does, seems so friendly, seems so _normal._ And if all of that isn’t an act, Dan is so bewildered in his wondering how Arin could possibly feel _normal_ when something so obviously went down between them. He dwells on the question for a grand total of about three minutes, hearing it loop over and over in his head, searching for some semblance of an answer but coming up short- until he just snaps.

“Could you pull over?” Dan asks, tone quiet but as stern as he can make it when his voice is trembling just slightly. Trembling with fear, with anger, or with something else, he’s not entirely sure.

Arin looks over at Dan hesitantly, clearly confused, but he complies. And then they’re there, along the curb of one of the streets downtown, sitting in silence and relative darkness, save for the streetlamp giving them a slight yellow glow from nearby.

It’s not an empty street by any means, as a few cars pass by them occasionally. Dan, however, can’t think of a time he has ever felt so isolated in the company of another person before.

“Why did you run away?” He asks simply, facing forward and staring straight out the windshield. Dan knows he doesn’t need to clarify what he’s talking about.

And Arin’s response is so quick, so free of hesitation, that Dan doesn’t know how to react when he hears it.

“I was afraid I was going to kiss you.”

Dan’s mouth falls open a little, because he was expecting something, _anything_ other than that. And he’s shocked into silence, but frustrated more than anything. Couldn’t this have just been done the more painful, yet easier way? Couldn’t Arin have just told Dan he didn’t feel the same way, and Dan could learn to live with the rejection, and they’d both be able to move on? It might’ve hurt more to hear Arin say that, but it would trouble his brain a little less than Arin’s confusing response.

Although his throat feels a little closed up, Dan manages to ask, in a croaky whisper that channels all of his hurt, “Would that be such a bad thing?”

He genuinely wants to know, because Arin’s words imply that there are plenty of other things he’d do before kissing Dan, and it pangs Dan’s heart in an inescapable way to think of that.

Dan looks over to Arin, awaiting a response, and he sees Arin shake his head. Dan doesn’t know whether to take it as an answer, or if Arin’s just shaking his head at himself, at how naive Dan is, at the tension that is so thick in the car. Then he turns toward Dan, finally looks back at him.

And Arin leans over, too quickly for Dan to even register what’s happening, and kisses him.

Dan tries to let himself relax into it, because this is all he’s wanted for weeks now. And it’s nice, sure, _of course_ it is- but it’s almost more confusing than it is pleasant. Dan feels so stuck between the two sides of himself- the side where he still tries not to let on how he feels about Arin, and the side that so desperately just wants to grab Arin’s face and run his fingers through his hair. To do _something_ , because Arin’s actually _kissing_ him, and that must count for something, right?

When Arin finally pulls away first, Dan nervously lets his eyes open again, peeking at Arin to judge the reaction that might be less than favorable. Fortunately, as far as Dan can tell, Arin doesn’t look like he suddenly wants to flee again, so Dan takes it as a small victory for now. He even smiles at Dan as he shifts back into his own seat again, and Dan could swear he’s melting where he sits.

Arin puts the car back into drive then, and they aren’t saying anything, but Dan feels as though they don’t really need to. He can’t wipe this giddy fucking smile off of his face, his cheeks hurting with it, but he can’t help it. For once, things feel like they’re going _right_ , and he’s desperate to cling onto that feeling.

\--

A couple days go by where Arin doesn’t kiss him again, though he isn’t acting any differently, either. Dan is admittedly a little confused about where they stand, but because Arin seems just as comfortable as he’s always been - making dick jokes, being close to Dan, smiling in a way that makes Dan feel all warm - he figures he shouldn’t be worried. If Arin didn’t want Dan to wonder about their status and about Arin’s own feelings, he wouldn’t have kissed Dan at all.

Right?

It’s a Thursday afternoon, and Dan is in the dorm finishing up a paper before it’s due for once. He might usually not be very motivated at all, but his motivation today is sitting right on his bed, doodling in a sketchbook while he waits for Dan to wrap up. If Dan can’t manage to make himself care as much as he should about his own grades, then Arin sure as hell is able to change that in an instant.

“Okay,” Dan sighs out after saving his work, “I think I’m all done.” He announces it casually, though his heart is already starting to pick up speed in his chest. He feels giddy. Is it stupid that Dan probably wouldn’t have finished the essay until tomorrow night, five minutes before the deadline, had it not been for the intoxicating thought of kissing Arin again?

Arin looks up at him from where he’s been concentrating, drawing something that Dan’s sure would put him in awe. And as much as Dan can’t help but stare dreamily after him, and as much as he wants to go shuffle on over next to Arin and lie him back on the bed, Dan isn’t _that_ much of an idiot. He knows that, apparently, this is all new for Arin, in some way or another. The last thing Dan wants is for him to be scared off again- scared of Dan, scared of his own emotions, or otherwise. Whatever the case may be, whatever is going through Arin’s head, Dan can’t be sure, and in turn, figures he can’t be too overly cautious with him. It was an awful feeling to be left deserted in a bleak and tasteless laundromat alone, and he doesn’t want to revisit that feeling if he can help it.

The best approach, Dan thinks, must be to try and find some answers. Because even if Arin did agree to kiss Dan again, it wouldn’t really do much at all to uncloud Dan’s mind or to clear any of the confusion that rests there at all.

Arin smiles at him softly, his mouth upturned just slightly so, and Dan reciprocates as he pushes away from his desk to move to sit with Arin on his own bed. He’s glad he was able to finish doing the laundry the other night, even if by himself, because he otherwise probably wouldn’t let Arin even touch his messy bed sheets.

The mattress dips as Dan scoots close enough to Arin so that they’re intimate, but far enough away so as not to pressure Arin, either. He asks his question simply, in a light tone of voice, as if it isn’t eating him up inside and hasn’t been plaguing his thoughts since the kiss. He, even after spending so much time with him, has learned that he can’t always know what to expect from Arin.

“Do you think… Is there any way we could talk about it?”

Dan’s immediate thought is that he absolutely hates the way that he words it. He’s developed a habit over the years of putting others’ feelings before his own, and right now, he’s aware that he’s doing it more than ever. It’s not that Arin’s feelings aren’t important, but Dan’s been staring at his laptop for the last hour, writing meaningless words while thinking about something else entirely- and even now, he can’t seem to be direct, unable to make himself a priority or word it in a way that’s effective.

Arin’s expression changes a little, shifting in a way that makes Dan believe he’s uncomfortable. He squints his eyes a little, starts tapping his pen on his sketchbook, and he won’t meet Dan’s gaze.

“I-I don’t really-,” He begins to say, but stops himself as though he can’t find the right words. Or as though he doesn’t want to tell Dan the truth.

And now, this feels to Dan less like a conversation about the elephant in the room and more like a confrontation for the way he’s being treated. It’s been dwelling and simmering in the back of his mind since Arin kissed him, but it’s suddenly brought to the forefront now as Arin seemingly tries dodging his request.

He feels like he’s being played with.

It’s such an awful feeling, but Dan can’t stop thinking about how this is all so reminiscent of Ross, and the way he really only wants to speak with Dan when he wants something out of him. If Arin only kissed Dan to shut him up, or because he acted on impulse in the moment and doesn’t actually feel that way about him, Dan’s decided that it was a really shitty thing to do. It seems as though, no matter who it is, time and time again, no one truly sees Dan as anything other than someone to toy with when it’s convenient. And he hates it.

“I just want to know if I’m wasting my time,” Dan says in something close to an outburst, clearly startling Arin a little by the way his eyes widen. He can’t help it though. He feels like an idiot, and embarrassed and _desperate_.

“I want to know if I’m wasting my time thinking that there could be something between us. I’m wondering if you only see me in a certain way that’s so far from the way I see you, if when you look at me you only care about kissing me sometimes, just when you want to.”

Dan exhales shakily, looking down to realize that one of his hands is clenching the sheets on his bed tightly. He looks away from Arin, too, thinking that if he keeps staring at him, he might be too embarrassed to say what he needs to say, and he doesn’t want to hold himself back anymore.

“When I look at you I think you’re so beautiful and I want to be near you and close to you and to talk to you all the time, not only just kiss you. I don’t know if it’s something I’m not communicating the right way but the way you react makes me feel so _wrong_ about feeling the way I do, because I can’t for the life of me even tell if it’s reciprocated, or if you’re just humoring me or just humoring yourself, and-,”

Dan pauses, and braves a glance back over at Arin to find that their eyes meet.

“It’s hard, Arin.”

Their gazes stay locked, which Dan almost takes a good sign at first. But the longer they sit there in silence, seemingly trying to figure one another out, the more frustrated Dan becomes. Arin isn’t saying anything, and his expression is eerily similar to the one Dan looked at in fear in the laundromat. All blank and unreadable, which is nerve-wracking but at the same time, something close to _infuriating_ for Dan.

“Please say something,” Dan pleads, but despite his begging, Arin just looks back at him, as if too dumbfounded to process all of Dan’s words. And he knows that maybe he’s coming on a little strongly, here, but Dan can’t help the way he feels his emotions start to build.

For the first time, Dan feels himself getting _angry_ about it all, angry with Arin- and he allows it. He’s let himself be walked over a lot of times in his life, but he’s not going to sit here just to be humiliated after pouring his heart out on a whim.

Without thinking if he’s being rational or not, Dan stands from the bed, hands shaking a little with emotion. He wants to leave before Arin does this time. To show him how it feels? To prove a point? Just to have the upper hand? Dan doesn’t really know for sure, but he does know that he can’t stand to just wait for Arin to decide what to do with his heart. Maybe it’s not fair to have put so much pressure on him all at once, but Dan gives everyone too many chances. He thinks that maybe, this is one of the first times where he’s realized that they may not actually deserve it.

Muttering curses, Dan walks out of the dorm room, slamming the door behind him on the way out. He doesn’t care when he hears the whiteboard fall from it and onto the fucking floor again, but it does make him think of Ross almost instantly. And he has a good idea of where to find him.

On the way across campus to the school’s indoor pool, Dan’s mind is a bit of a mess. He mostly just thinks about how he needs someone to vent to, how he wishes someone could help him know what to do here. In their sophomore year, before they started hooking up all the time, Dan remembers that Ross would always listen. He just _needs_ someone that isn’t Arin right now, like he needs to wash a bad taste out of his mouth.

Dan finds Ross in the pool’s locker room that’s full of used towels and wet floors, signs that might indicate that the rest of the team was here not too long ago. Now, though, the place is empty aside from Ross, who’s in a towel with his clothes laid out on a bench, just about ready to change. For some reason, he doesn’t look all too surprised to see Dan, and only raises one of his eyebrows in a greeting before taking off his towel to start changing. He, of course, has nothing to hide from Dan of all people.

The sight of Ross dripping wet after swim practice has never really gotten to Dan at all before. It’s never been this intense of a feeling to see Ross naked, with his hair soaked and drops of water falling onto his shoulders and down his chest. But maybe Dan just hasn’t ever looked hard enough.

He doesn’t spend time questioning the urge, and instead just follows it. Ross, unsurprisingly, doesn’t back away as Dan advances, easily complying. He even has this stupid grin on his face, almost as though he somehow planned all of this, planned on Dan finding him all alone here and fucking him against the lockers. Dan initiates sex for probably the first time ever with Ross, and tries not to think as much as he just lets his instinct guide him.

\--

Somehow, being left alone after fucking in a locker room that smelled too strongly of chlorine didn’t help Dan feel any better at all. Ross didn’t stick around for long after he got his dry clothes on, and then Dan was just stuck feeling worse, if anything, and even guilty. He knows he was naive to think for even a second that Ross wouldn’t still be in it for anything other than the sex, and was naive to think that trying to use him to get his mind off of Arin would ever work. Weirdly, Dan even feels like he’s cheating on Arin somehow, or at the very least, betraying his feelings for him. Now he’s alone, left with this shitty feeling as he heads back to the dorms, glad to see that Ross isn’t in their room while hoping that Arin still might be.

He isn’t, though. Everything feels so wrong and awful, and a mantra begins playing in his head- _you can’t do anything right_. It’s a harrowing and familiar thought.

Things, from there, feel back to normal. Or, at least as normal as Dan can pretend to feel. Normal being before Arin was around, that is- Dan goes to ballet rehearsal, gets chewed out by Melissa, barely makes it to his classes on time, hates his job, and feels distant from everything. Feeling like his life isn’t going anywhere and like he fucks everything up is Dan’s normal. He hasn’t heard from Arin since he stormed out, and he couldn’t feel more awful about it. Ultimately, though, he knows it’s all his fault. It’s his fault for thinking that Arin would ever feel the same way about him, for pressuring him to feel something, for making Arin think he had to kiss him when he didn’t want him, for bringing this all upon both of them by ever asking Arin for a ride from work in the first place. So he doesn’t reach out to Arin, because he knows that if, by some chance, things could ever be repaired between them, attempting to jumpstart it himself would only make things worse.

Half a week of suffering in constant self-pity and self-loathing goes by, leaving Dan feeling drained and at his wit’s end. And it takes him half a week to notice the flash drive on his desk.

While sitting at his desk, trying and failing horribly to focus on the assignment on the laptop screen in front of him, Dan’s eyes catch on something unfamiliar, and all hopes of finishing his homework on time are thrown out the window. He picks up the small USB drive that he doesn’t recognize as his own and, in the fashion of Ross, doesn’t deliberate much on if he should peek at its contents before deciding that no one would know the difference if he did or not.

All too quickly, with only a few clicks within a couple labeled folders, Dan realizes that it’s Arin’s. He recognizes the art style, the scanned pictures and digital drawings all having that familiar charm about them. Dan doesn’t know much about traditional art, sure, but he knows that Arin’s good at what he does. He has to ask himself, then, if it’s still right to go snooping through everything on the drive before trying to return it, especially with everything that’s gone down between them recently. But he feels a little short-tempered tonight, and before he can stop himself, Dan decides that if Arin didn’t want to have all of his personal things exposed like this, then he should have been more careful about where he leaves his things.

After a little bit of looking around, Dan notes that most of the stuff on here is either girls dressed in colorful, skimpy outfits, guys with weird anime hair, or miscellaneous drawings that must be for fun or class assignments. It all seems pretty typical and ordinary, until his eyes fall onto a folder titled simply, “Dan.” He doesn’t think he’s ever clicked on anything faster.

He can’t possibly know what he’s expecting, but once he starts looking through the folder’s pictures, he realizes how different they all are from anything else on the drive. They’re mostly sketches, but that doesn’t stop Dan from staring at them with his mouth open in awe. Some Dan recognizes as drawings based on some of the reference shots he’d initially shot for Arin, in black and white with shading that makes Dan look more beautiful than he knows he actually is. He takes his time clicking through them all, wondering when Arin got the time to draw them, and more so _why_. He stops at one for longer than the others, though, because it’s different. And his heart skips a beat.

It’s a more realistic piece of Dan in his outfit for stage, a candid of a still shot of his dancing in full color. He blushes, mortified to think that Arin must have been drawing him, or at least thinking of drawing him, during the ballet a little while ago. At the same time, though, it’s so flattering, and his heart is still beating fast like it never seems to stop doing whenever he thinks about Arin.

A little worn out, Dan slumps back in his chair, a strange cocktail of emotions dawning on him. It’s hard to settle on one of the many thoughts that are jumping through his mind, but he manages to focus on just one. Right then, Dan wouldn’t care if Arin weren’t telling him that he’s beautiful, or doing horrible first aid on his ankle, or even kissing him- he just wishes that Arin were here. But how is he supposed to go about this?

They haven’t spoken since Dan walked out just in the same fashion that Arin did. He just wishes he had known then that the satisfying feeling of having the upper hand wouldn’t last for very long at all. He begins contemplating how to word an awkward text to Arin, trying desperately to get over the fear that’s brewing in him, because he wants to make things right. If he never gets to kiss Arin again, he’d much rather prefer that to not ever seeing Arin at all. Before he gets around to trying to type out his awfully written message, though, Dan takes a look at the title of the piece he’s still so entranced by.

_meet me by the century tree.png_

It’s so cryptic and might not mean anything, yet Dan feels suddenly as though he knows exactly what Arin’s trying to say. He guesses that, if Arin did plant this drive here for him to find, then maybe they _have_ been living through some horrible rom-com all along, and he just didn’t realize it until now. Without trying to contemplate it too much, Dan decides that he should just go, to test his theory, to try and apologize to Arin in a way that’ll make him forgive Dan for being so stupid. He feels a little oddly choked up as he stands and leaves to go find Arin, stomach lurching and all- but at this point, he considers the feeling to be normal.

Dan is somewhat used to rushing around campus, feeling as though he’s running out of time for things, but running late to class has never felt quite like this. His legs quickly carry him towards the place where he first bumped into Arin, half-expecting the whole way there for Arin not to even be around. Once the tree comes into view, though, Dan quickly spots a familiar head of hair by its branches, too, and he feels a little too giddy for his own good.

It’s the same tree that Dan would look after longingly, day after day, just wishing that the universe could toss him some good luck and grant him someone to love underneath it. Now, it’s this steady and easy approach towards the trunk, trying his hardest not to appear too hasty in his movements, though his heart could not be urging him any more helplessly to go faster.

When Dan is finally standing in front of Arin, he finds himself at a loss for something useful or intelligent to say. How could he possibly think of a good start to this conversation? What does Arin even expect or want him to say? Have his palms ever been this clammy?

Fortunately, Arin ends up speaking first.

“Hi,” Arin says simply, smiling softly, sounding a little out of breath.

“Hey,” Dan responds, hoping Arin can’t hear how hard his heart is beating. “I didn’t… I wasn’t even sure that you’d be here.”

“Yeah, I know the picture thing was kind of weird, but I thought you might still be too mad at me if I tried texting you. I’ve been here every afternoon for the past few days hoping that you’d come.”

And if Dan thought that he was overwhelmed before, his heart positively _swells_ at Arin’s words. He finds himself unable to reply with anything that wouldn’t be an overzealous gush of emotions, so he just stares at Arin with his eyebrows drawn together, looking as though he can’t believe that this is happening.

“So, I guess I owe you an explanation, huh?”

Dan shrugs, then nods. While he may not have brought it up himself first, that’s _exactly_ what he wants. He wants to stop trying to guess what Arin’s really thinking and just be given a direct answer instead.

“Okay, yeah, I-,” Arin pauses, looking up at the tree branches they’re under. Dan couldn’t be more anxious to find out what he has to say.

“I was in a bad relationship, a little while ago. It just… it didn’t end well. And, if I’m being honest, I knew that I could end up feeling something really _real_ for you that first night you asked me to pick you up, but I was… I don’t know, scared, I guess? My last boyfriend was really emotionally abusive, and I didn’t want something like that to happen again.” He leans against the trunk of the tree then, but it’s too casual for Dan’s liking. It’s too casual for the way he’s all but breaking Dan’s heart with the story of what’s happened in his past. Arin looks as though he has more to say, but Dan can’t help but interject.

“I can’t believe anyone would want to hurt someone like you.” He tells Arin, his words coming from the most sincere and genuine place in his heart.

“Well, I know I _seem_ great,” Arin says jokingly, rolling his eyes a little, before his smile falls a little and he continues in a more serious tone, “But I know I wasn’t always the best boyfriend to him, either.”

“That doesn’t matter. And it doesn’t give someone an excuse to treat you like shit. Especially when you’re one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met, and you’re sweet and selfless and fucking funny and so gorgeous. You didn’t deserve that.”

Dan manages to stop himself from spouting any more of the thousands of compliments that he’s sitting on, because by the looks of it, Arin is beginning to blush.

“Thanks, I guess. I know I haven’t been the best to you either, though. When I realized how much I liked you, I tried ignoring it, thinking that it’d make it just go away. I didn’t mean to be such an asshole or to make you think that I was never interested, and especially not that I only wanted to fuck with you and not take you seriously.”

Dan sighs, thinking that, although he can’t relate to Arin’s troubles, he at least has a better sense of where he’s coming from now. It doesn’t really excuse the few times that he left Dan with his heart aching and wondering, but knowing _why_ he did it definitely makes him feel a little better.

“I never thought that you would be one to hurt me on purpose like he did, I just want you to know that. I’m just still learning how to get along with even myself, and to not hate myself every day. It’s scary to know deep down how easily I become dependent on a person, and it’s even scarier to think of someone just dropping me again, too. I couldn’t be sure, you know?”

Dan lets go of an involuntary gasp at the thought of Arin being afraid to love, or thinking that he’s undeserving of it. He wants to have all the sappy and romantic parts of falling in love with Arin, but Dan also wants to be there when Arin doubts himself, too. He wants to stick around for the good parts and the bad, because he doesn’t think he’s ever met someone like Arin before. And someone like him is worth all of the ugly parts and more.

“Just because you get a little sad sometimes doesn’t mean you aren’t any less beautiful,” Dan tells Arin, and he takes a step over one of the tree’s roots that protrudes from the ground to be closer to Arin. His hand raises to cup Arin’s face, his palm holding his jaw with his thumb resting on Arin’s cheekbone.

“Someone like you shouldn’t have to be sad alone, though.”

Arin gazes at Dan with these eyes that are so starry and shining, looking at him like he holds the whole world. And Dan hopes that he’ll never look at him any differently again.

“You won’t run away if I kiss you again, right?” Dan asks, laughing a little, though he’s only half-joking.

“Yeah, I won’t,” Arin smiles back, and when Dan finally leans in so that their lips touch, it’s never felt so right. He’s noticed that, whenever he’s with Arin, he hardly thinks of anything other than him, no troubles in sight. Ballet, homework, Ross- they’re all forgotten in favor of focusing on someone so much more important.

“I know you said that you’re scared, but if you want, we can give it a try? I promise to take things slowly.”

“I definitely want to try.” Arin nods happily, reaching down to find Dan’s hand to hold without looking away from Dan’s eyes.

“Cool, so, how about cookies as a first official date?”

“That sounds perfect.” Arin responds, and when he goes in for another kiss, Dan suddenly realizes that, after so much time wishing for it, he’s finally found what he’s been looking for under the century tree.

**Author's Note:**

> if you leave me a comment letting me know your thoughts, i'll probably kiss you forever. alternatively, if you're not into that, i'll send you one (1) ripened plum by mail! neat!


End file.
